Sacrifice and Service
by Catslynw
Summary: How far will Randor go to save a life? How far will Skeletor go to stop the search for a cure that may not even exist? Left behind, three powerful women battle Skeletor’s minions with help from a handful of Masters, guardsmen and one irritated healer.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**The Wall**

Duncan whirled and took aim at the group of Skeletor's minions swarming around King Randor and his guards. All across the courtyard, similar groups surrounded the Masters, small pockets of conflict in the large open space. The ground rumbled periodically, sending friend and foe alike sprawling. Feet carefully spread to keep his balance, Duncan fired. A howl split the air. Baring his fangs and snarling, his crimson fur singed and smoking on his back, Beastman abandoned his attack on the king and charged at Duncan. _Where is He-Man? He should have been here by now. _Duncan braced to meet the attack, but Beastman was stopped short as more of the Eternian Guard poured into the courtyard and surrounded him. With a swipe of one great paw, he sent men flying through the air. Yet, for every guard he knocked away, three more surged forward to take his place. The rest of Skeletor's minions were faring little better. The outcome of this battle was a foregone conclusion; Skeletor would be routed.

The question remained whether he could be driven off in time to save the king. Sword in hand, Randor fought valiantly. But Duncan could see that he was flagging. Chestnut hair drooped into his azure eyes as he fended off blows from Whiplash's spiked tail. Two guards did their best to protect his back, but they had their own troubles as well. _Where is He-Man? Randor needs his help - now. _Unfortunately, He-Man was nowhere in sight and the same throng that prevented Beastman from reaching Duncan also prevented Duncan from getting any closer to the king.

Suddenly the ground roiled beneath him and, distracted, he fell. Duncan cursed as he slammed into the paving stones and his hand-cannon sparked and died. _Blast! The fall's blown the last of the charge. _He got shakily to his feet and, mace in hand, prepared to fight his way to Randor's side. But it was not to be. _What?! _Duncan ducked as Stratos, the winged Avion, suddenly swooped by, flying low overhead. He laughed heartily when he saw what Stratos was carrying in his arms. _If they'd flown any lower, He-Man would have kicked me in the back of the head. _Stratos dropped his burden next to the besieged king, and He-Man proceeded to send Whiplash flying through the air... without the benefit of Stratos' wings. Duncan could see that He-Man was shouting something to Skeletor's forces, but he couldn't hear him over the roar of another earth tremor and the crackle of Evil-Lyn's magic. Smiling grimly, He-Man lifted Trap Jaw above his head and sent him flying through the air on the same trajectory as Whiplash... straight at Skeletor.

The self-proclaimed overlord of evil went tumbling end over end, his ram-headed Havoc Staff spinning uselessly away. Just as he should have hit ground, a Griffin swooped down and caught him. Climbing onto the beast's back, the skull-faced villain made good his escape. His parting words echoed across the courtyard. "This isn't over He-Man," he warned. "I'll be back! Eternia will be mine!"

"Not during my lifetime, Skeletor," He-Man said, blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "But you're welcome to keep trying." The scattered Masters laughed and, more surprisingly, so did Randor.

The nerve of the attackers broke, and, as rapidly as it had begun, the battle was over. The cessation of noise was shocking as a blow and, for a moment Duncan's worldview spun. Shaking his head to clear it, he hurried over to the king and He-Man. Finding Randor blessedly unhurt, he took up a protective stance and began barking orders to the guards for the care of the wounded. From the corner of his eye, he saw Randor and He-Man clasp hands. Both men were smiling. Randor's smile was tired, barely held in place, but He-Man's was blinding in its intensity. As always, He-Man basked in the glow of his father's praise, something seldom experienced by Adam. Unfortunately. No doubt Randor was expressing his gratitude for He-Man's timely assistance. Duncan knew that Randor found He-Man's ability to mysteriously appear when most needed puzzling, but the king could hardly demand to know how Eternia's champion managed the feat. If he knew, he'd probably wish he didn't. _The Elders know that one of us being a nervous wreck every time He-Man's in danger is probably enough._

* * *

Less than an hour later, the courtyard was all but deserted. Having completed the transport of the wounded to the infirmary, the uninjured guards and the other Masters had no doubt gone in search of refreshment and relaxation. Duncan could just picture the Masters at that very moment regaling Prince Adam and Queen Marlena with increasingly more impressive tales of the battle and He-Man's heroic arrival. He knew that King Randor, however, would not rest until he had assured himself that battle's aftermath was well on its way to being remedied. So it was that Duncan was busily surveying the damaged courtyard, discussing repairs with the king, when Orko called out to them in his cheery, high voice. "Your highness, your highness?" Pointy red hat flapping with the wind of his passage, waving his blue arms in greeting, the little Trollan floated hurriedly toward them across the rubble-strewn courtyard. Randor sighed, and straightened tiredly. His face set in a blank smile that was equal parts exhaustion and resignation, he greeted his court jester in a neutral tone. "Yes, Orko, what is it?" 

"Your highness," the Trollan said, bobbing slightly up and down as he hovered before them, "the queen sent me to find Adam. Do you know where he is?"

Randor's face hardened briefly, his entire posture stiffening. "He ran off when the fighting started," Randor replied, his voice flat and all but unreadable. "In the direction of Man-At-Arms' lab, I believe. He is probably still hiding in there." Randor grimaced. "He may even have fallen asleep with that cat of his." Orko's eyes widened in alarm at the king's obvious anger. They both knew that Randor was supposed to think that Adam was somewhat cowardly and lazy, but lately it had gone a little too far.

In a recent encounter with Skeletor, Adam had been forced to run away from a battle in which his father had played a major role. Randor and Skeletor had faced off against each other in duel that still gave Duncan cold sweats late at night. When the tide seemed to be turning in Skeletor's favor, Adam had dived under a blow from Clawful and fled the scene. Duncan knew why he left, but Randor, seeing him go out of the corner of his eye, did not. The flight of the prince distracted him, and Skeletor knocked the king to the ground. He-Man arrived barely in time to prevent his father's untimely demise. The battle was won, but it had been a near thing. _Too near. _Far too near. And the king... he had been enraged. The quarrel between father and son - largely one-sided due to the guilt Adam felt over Randor's near miss - also still gave Duncan cold sweats. Things just haven't been the same between them since then.

Orko's gaze darted to Duncan, beseeching.

Duncan cursed inwardly, and rapidly manufactured an excuse. Taking a deep breath, he lied to his king. "Sire, Prince Adam didn't run away from the battle." At the bitterly skeptical look on Randor's face, he hurried on. "I sent him to my lab for a new charge for my hand-cannon. Mine overloaded when one of Evil-Lyn's spells knocked me down. He may have become trapped outside the courtyard when that last contingent of the Palace Guard arrived." Duncan devoutly hoped that Randor wouldn't realize that the boy had disappeared from the battle before Evil-Lyn's earth tremors had blown away most of Duncan's power supply.

"Always, you defend him!" the king snapped. Duncan jerked away as if slapped. His jaw clenched. _It's my duty to defend him. _Randor seemed to read the thought on his face and took a half-step back, as startled by his outburst as Duncan and Orko were. Then, with a sigh, the anger visibly drained out of him, his posture loosening, his face relaxing. "Still, perhaps you are correct in this instance," Randor said, attempting an apologetic smile. He turned back to Orko. "I will stop by the lab on my way to the infirmary. If he is there..." He searched for words, his lips shaping and discarding several. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I will let him know that his mother is looking for him."

The little Trollan seemed more alarmed than ever. "Infirmary? OH! Your highness! Are you hurt? Do you need help? Hold on, Sire, and I'll have you there in no time!" Orko pushed back his long, loose red sleeves and began to wiggle his fingers in an alarming fashion. _Alarming, that is, to anyone who knows how his spells usually turn out. _The king hurriedly put his hands up and gestured for the Trollan to stop. "No, Orko. Thank you, but I'm fine," he reassured him, a slightly crazed look on his face. "I merely intend to inquire after those members of the Guard who were wounded in the engagement. Nothing for you to be concerned about." Orko lowered his arms, looking both relieved and faintly disappointed. Duncan suppressed a grin, thankful that he hadn't wound up with a bucket of water tipped onto his head yet again. Or eggs, or sand, or cream, or...

"Man-At-Arms, will you accompany me?" the king asked, strangely hesitant and not meeting his eyes.

"Of course, Sire," Duncan replied, nodding firmly. He hoped his tone clearly conveyed that the embarrassing disagreement had never happened and was already forgotten. _You're not having a good day, are you, my friend? _Duncan's efforts were rewarded with a wry smile and a hand gesturing him onward.

They walked in uneasy, weary silence for a time. Then Orko, who had trailed after them, announced he would check the lab for Prince Adam while they visited the infirmary. Duncan wholeheartedly agreed that it wasn't a good idea for Randor and Adam to meet right now, but he shuddered to think what Orko, unsupervised, might do to his experiments. _I just finished cleaning up the last mess he made. _He was looking at the Trollan, ticking off on his fingers a long, stern list of things that Orko was not to touch, when a gasp from Randor yanked him back to their surroundings. They had just turned the corner onto a path that led alongside the palace's open-air, columned theater, now empty. Ahead of them, piles of rubble lay across the way where most of a wall, no doubt weakened by Evil-Lyn's magic-induced quakes, had fallen.

A boy's battered arm, all but obscured by debris, reached out from beneath the greatest mound of stone. A horrifyingly familiar sword lay just beyond his grasp.

With an inarticulate cry Randor dashed toward the fallen figure. Duncan, too, was running. Running before his mind even quite registered what that sword had to mean. _Adam. It's Adam. _Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his exhaustion blasted away by sheer terror. _If he's dead..._

Randor was already pulling at stones in a panicked frenzy when Duncan cleared the rubble away from Adam's arm and felt for a pulse. The prince's skin was cool to the touch but not yet cold. For several agonizing seconds, Duncan could not find any sign of a heartbeat. But then... There! Thready and weak, but there! Jumping up, he stepped back several paces and studied the heaps of stone, searching for balance points, fulcrums that - once disturbed - might bring the whole mass tumbling down onto the king as well as his son. Randor, cloak and crown tossed aside, was still frantically trying to shift stones half the size of Cringer, careless of his own safety. Orko, tears pooling in his eyes, was levitating smaller stones off to the side. _We've got to have help. We'll never reach him in time this way. _In an instant, Duncan made his decision. His comlink was still without power from the overload. Knowing that he would never convince the king to leave, he ran forward and grabbed Orko by the shoulder. "Go now. Find the Masters. Bring them here. Hurry!" With that, he shoved the Trollan in the direction of the main halls and began to dig. For once, Orko didn't argue.

Within minutes they had the help of all the Masters currently at the palace and every uninjured guard that could reasonably fit into the limited working space. _We should reach him soon, but will it be soon enough? _The careful digging guided by Duncan and Man-E-Robot continued for more than an hour. Adam's arm never moved despite Ram-Man, his eyes suspiciously bright, calling continual reassurances to the young prince. Randor, still weak and worn from the battle with Skeletor's forces, would allow no one to take his place in the digging. When Stratos urged the king to rest, Randor merely ignored him. Nearby sat Queen Marlena, stiff, pale and not speaking. Her eyes never left the spot where Adam was buried. She held his sword across her lap.

When the removal of a particularly large stone revealed a gap in the rubble, Mekanek plunged in head first, his neck apparatus extending as he wound his way through narrow gaps in the pile. The structure trembled sending a cloud of dust billowing out and causing Mekanek to cough as it clogged his throat.

"Mek! Get out of there!" Duncan ordered in alarm.

"No! Wait! I can almost see him!"

"You can?!" Marlena exclaimed, jumping up and running toward him.

"Your highness, please, do not come too near," Stratos beseeched. "This structure is unstable-"

"Mekanek, is he hurt? How badly? Is he awake? Can you talk to him?"

"Please, my Queen," the Avion said as he took her by the arm. "Please, come away-"

"Wait... I - I can see part of his face! His eyes are closed, but... he's breathing! I can see him breathing!" There was a pause and then Mekanek's voice came echoing out of the rubble, louder than before. "Adam, can you hear me? Prince Adam?! Come on, kid! Say something! Blink at me, anything! Adam?!"

En masse the Masters froze in their labors. Even the king stopped working for a moment as every soul in the courtyard waited, straining for the sound of Adam's response. None came. Without a word, Randor returned to his frenzied digging. The queen, hands clenched into fists, refused to return to the safety of the perimeter. Torn between his urgent need to rescue the prince and his equally urgent need to prevent injury to the queen, Stratos kept her in sight as he ferried away fragments of wall. Mekanek was still talking to the prince, desperately trying to coax a response from that silent figure when the precarious mountain of rubble began to move once more. This time he didn't have to be told get out. His head came whizzing out of the debris, his neck apparatus retracting so fast it sparked. Masters jumped and dodged as a cascade of stone, mortar and plaster tried to sweep them off their feet. Stratos leapt into the air and snatched the queen from the pathway of a tidal wave of rock while Buzz-Off carried the dazed Mekanek to safety.

When the collapse was over, the Masters gazed in horror at the remains of the wall. Adam's arm was no longer visible. Mekanek gazed fixedly at the mound of stone where his head and neck had so recently been. "That could'a killed you," Ram-Man said, coming to stand beside the shaken Master. "Don't do it again, ok?"

"Man-E!" Duncan called when he could breathe again.

"Way ahead of you, Man-At-Arms," he yelled back. Shifting to his robot form, he quickly scanned the area where Adam was buried. "The subsidence does not appear to have altered the structure of the stones covering the prince," he said in his robotic monotone. "However, the stability of the overall formation has been greatly reduced. We must hurry."

Everyone began to dig once more. With extreme care.

A few minutes later, a hand clamped down on Duncan's bicep, startling him out of the dazed state into which they had all quickly fallen. It was Buzz-Off.

"Man-At-Arms, this is taking too long. We need He-Man," he insisted, urgency ringing clearly in his voice. "Can't you call him somehow?" Duncan shook his head mutely, shook him off and continued to dig. His whole world reduced to the rough stone between his hands and the heartbeat he fancied he could hear beneath the stones, growing steadily fainter.

In the end, it was Teela who pulled her childhood friend's too-still body from the rubble. He did not react to his rescue or respond to the anxious queries of his parents and friends. He seemed, in fact, barely to be breathing. The rescuers were eerily silent as the medics performed a hasty examination. The Masters watched expectantly, waiting to be reassured, waiting for Adam to wake, waiting for someone to tell them that all would well. They waited in vain. Their cursory examination completed, the stony-faced medics whisked the prince away, the king and queen close behind. Duncan started to follow them, but he was stopped by his daughter's dismayed voice. "Father." Eyes wide with horror, Teela held her blood-covered trembling hands out for him to see.

* * *

"Bungling fools!" Skeletor shrieked, eyes flaring scarlet. "Incompetent dolts! Your failure cost me the palace of Eternia!" A blast from the Havoc Staff sent Whiplash flying through the air to slam into a sooty pillar. "I had Randor in the palm of my hand and you ruined everything!" A second flare of energy sent Beastman flying. He was headed in Evil-Lyn's direction, but she used a small bolt of energy from her own staff to alter his trajectory. He howled in rage as he flew from the throne room and out into one of the side tunnels. His impact, though out of sight, made a quite acceptable squishy thud. 

_Good riddance to fang face, she thought with immense satisfaction. I hope his fur's singed. _Since Skeletor wasn't blaming her for this latest debacle, she was free to enjoy the show. The others cowered, slinking about, trying to avoid his fury. All except Tri-Klops, who was too busy fiddling with his dials to pay any attention to the Lord of Snake Mountain. _Fortunate for him that Skeletor's too busy browbeating the goon squad to notice. I wonder what's so interesting. _Crossing her legs and cocking a hip nonchalantly, she leaned again the wall to wait for the storm of wrath to blow over.

"Uh, we're sorry boss." Whiplash offered tentatively as he got back to his feet.

"Sorry? Sorry! I'll show you sorry," he threatened, raising his staff menacingly. Whiplash ducked behind Clawful and the crustacean took the full brunt of the blast. After a nervous look in Skeletor's direction, Whiplash stumbled over Clawful's prone form and fled the throne room. The others, save Tri-Klops, hastily followed his example. Even Clawful managed to crawl out.

"Fools and buffoons, the lot of them," Evil-Lyn purred, carefully watching for indications that the overlord of Snake Mountain was prepared to turn his ire on her. When she saw no such signs, she straightened away from the wall and strolled over to the foot of his throne. "My earthquakes worked perfectly. If those imbeciles had trapped the guards in their barracks as they were told to-"

Skeletor cut her off, eyes mere embers. "You are quick to belittle your comrades, Evil-Lyn. Perhaps I," his eyes flared brighter, "am to be next."

"I... criticize you?" she asked in feigned shock. "Skeletor, how could you imagine that I would be so callous as to mention your own failures? Why, to point out that you-" she began, but Tri-Klops abruptly broke into the conversation.

"Skeletor!" he cried. "I think you'll want to see this."

"What is it?" he snapped, fangs gnashing together.

"I think you may have hurt King Randor pretty badly after all," Tri-Klops said in a gratingly cheerful voice.

"What do you mean?" Skeletor asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yes, Tri-Klops," Evil-Lyn said silkily, annoyed at being so rudely interrupted just when she was about to get in a few good digs at old bonehead's expense, "do tell us what is so fascinating that it compelled you to ignore your lord and master for the last hour."

"I think you killed Prince Adam," he exclaimed, so enraptured by his news that he didn't even respond to her gibe.

"What?" she demanded. "I don't believe it!"

"Well," he admitted, "he's not dead yet, but I think he will be soon." He chuckled gravelly. "The Masters are beside themselves. The king's practically catatonic."

"But... but that milk-faced sop wasn't even there during the battle," Evil-Lyn protested. "He ran away at the start of the fighting just like he always does. I thought that red-haired harpy was going to have a fit on the spot when he ducked by her!"

"For once Evil-Lyn is correct, Tri-Klops," Skeletor said, smiling beneficently at the fuming witch. "I saw the cowardly little runt run away myself. How is it that Randor's brat came to be injured?"

"Well, look," the cyborg demanded as he adjusted a control on his left bracer. Suddenly, the throne was filled with a Doomseeker's eye view of the palace. It was focused on a ruined wall and a number of milling, agitated people.

Evil-Lyn and Skeletor exchanged a baffled, annoyed look.

"Sooooo..." they said in unison.

"Wait." Tri-Klops adjusted the controls again and the picture began to whiz backwards. It was amusing for a time, watching all of the Masters and guards run about in reverse, but then Evil-Lyn's breath caught in her throat as she finally caught a glimpse of the Prince of Eternia. Then he was gone as the picture continued to rewind.

"Wait!" she cried. "Stop and go forward again." She looked up at the throne. Skeletor was leaning forward eagerly, red eyes flashing in hostile pleasure. _Goodness, the three-eyed wonder may actually be right. I may really have gotten the prince. _Evil-Lyn watched in delighted amazement as the Doomseeker's images moved forward once more. When Man-At-Arms' snipe of a daughter pulled the battered and bruised body of the prince from beneath the rubble, she laughed aloud. The horrified faces of the Masters only made her laugh all the harder.

"A wall," she said bemused. "A wall fell on him. Oh, how droll."

"Evil-Lyn," Skeletor sang, "I am positively overwhelmed. How considerate of you to do away with the callow Prince Alan."

"Adam," she corrected automatically, too stunned to say more. _A wall fell on him. A wall. It would be more impressive if I'd actually planned it that way, but I don't think I need to point that out to Skeletor._

"Yes," purred the Lord of Snake Mountain. "Adam. Randor's precious boy. Well, well, well. Not even He-Man could save him from this. How utterly delightful, and I thought this day had been a complete and utter disaster. You've done well, Evil-Lyn. Very well."

"Thank you, Skeletor. It's a good for a girl to know she's appreciated."

"Yeah, but, he's not dead yet," Tri-Klops pointed out unwisely. Skeletor promptly scorched him with a wave of eldritch fire. The tri-optical idiot was still screeching in pain when Skeletor turned an unnervingly toothy grin on her. "No one cares to be surrounded by doomsayers," he confided conspiratorially. Evil-Lyn cocked an eyebrow in agreement, but before she could comment her lord and master continued. "Still, Tri-Klops is essentially correct." He tapped the tips of his pointed fingers together in a staccato rhythm. "Dear, dear Evil-Lyn, it would seem the stars shine favorably upon you this auspicious day. Let us hope the constellations do not change alignment until such time as the callow Prince," he smirked at her, "Adam is dead."

Evil-Lyn smiled savagely back, hoping that her uneasy, reflexive swallow was not visible. One must never show weakness before Skeletor. "Yes," she agreed. "Let us hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 -- The Death of Hope**

It was Cringer's blood.

Duncan sat with the king and queen outside main surgery in the infirmary's critical care ward, feeling useless. His area of expertise was mechanically induced problems. _Was your friend turned into stone by Tri-Klops' latest invention? Don't worry, I can fix it. But this... I can't fix this. _There was nothing he could do for Adam now. It was up to the medics and healers. Duty meant he should be off doing any one of a dozen more useful things: supervising repairs, checking on the battle wounded, watching for signs that Skeletor might strike again while their guard was down. He should go. He should. The king and queen should order him to go, not just sit there in silence, their hands clasped tightly together. Randor... Duncan couldn't bear to look at Randor. The bottom had dropped out of the king's world. _Why don't they tell me to go? Why...? Maybe they're just too tired to care... too tired to think about anything but him. _Duncan studied their worn faces, seeing in each visage a vision of the bleak future before them all if the prince died. If their son died. _I know how I'd feel if it was Teela in there. _Duncan lowered his face into his hands and began to rub his temples. _How I feel that it's Adam is bad enough. _

Time limped by.

When a hand lightly settled on his knee, Duncan looked up to find Queen Marlena squatting daintily before him. Her intent eyes searched his face. "Man-At-Arms, are you all right?" she asked softly. Looking around, Duncan realized that the king was no longer in the hall. "Randor left to go and thank the Masters for their assistance," she said, "and to let them know that we won't have any word on Adam for another hour or so." With a slight smile she added, "We think they're getting impatient."

"They're all very concerned. Adam is, well he's... he's well liked."

"I know," Marlena said quietly, her deep brown eyes intent on his. "But Man-At-Arms... Duncan, how are you?"

He took one deep breath. Then another. "I'm fine, your highness." He could not quite meet her eyes.

"You're not... blaming yourself?" she asked.

Startled, he looked her square in the face, their gazes locking. _Blame myself? God, yes._

"What? No of course not," he replied, but he suspected that the queen could read the real answer in his eyes.

"Duncan, Randor told me what you said - about sending Adam for a power pack - but you must realize that doesn't make this your fault. It could have happened to any of us."

Power pack? Oh, yes, of course, yes. Naturally, the king and queen would think of that. What else could they think? They didn't know that He-Man was really Adam. So, they couldn't know that He-Man and Battle Cat had almost certainly been in the process of transforming back into their true selves when the wall collapsed onto them. _They have no idea how deep my guilt really runs._

"I should check on Cringer," he said, swiftly rising to his feet. The queen also rose. "Cringer will recover, won't he?" she asked, anxiety creeping into her voice. "Adam... he'd be devastated if he lost Cringer." Duncan hastened to reassure her. "He'll be fine; he just needs time to heal."

Duncan turned to go, but the queen stopped him one more time. "Duncan, you don't think that Skeletor did this deliberately, do you?" she asked, her voice so rough that it pained his heart. "Do you think that one of his... people... made the wall fall on Adam?"

Duncan stared at her in horror, his blood suddenly feeling chill in his veins. _If Skeletor saw him changing...! No, no, we'd have heard something by now. He could never resist gloating if he thought he'd actually killed He-Man._ "No, your highness," he said, his voice catching slightly despite his best effort to keep it calm. "I think... I think Adam was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He shook his head, sadly. "It's still Skeletor's doing, and I promise you that he'll pay for this, but... I don't think it was some kind of plot." Marlena nodded, looking relieved, and Duncan turned and fled before the queen could think of any more questions he might have trouble answering.

* * *

Sitting on the polished basalt floor of her workshop, Evil-Lyn threw a handful of light into the air, creating a magic window. Through it, she watched intently as the King of Eternia, standing atop the dais in his throne room, finished addressing the assembled Masters and an assortment of guards, courtiers, servants and other palace hangers-on. The news was hardly bleak: Prince Adam was in surgery, they would have no further news for several hours, the king would give the Masters another update in the morning, they were to assemble in the Infirmary Gardens. Blah, blah, blah. Randor's words were hardly interesting. They certainly did not merit the intense, respectful silence with which the gathered throng listened to his announcement. Perhaps it was the look on his face that held the throng in check.

When he was finished speaking, the king rapidly left the room, dodging the anxious queries that were tossed his way. He strode seemingly purposefully through the halls of his palace, and Evil-Lyn's spell followed him. It was only when he reached an intersection in the hallway that she realized he had no idea where he was going. Randor gazed numbly at the three possible routes before him. The path to the right, she knew, lead to the royal family's private wing where their bed chambers were located. Where the others went, she was not certain.

Finally, taking a deep breath, the king turned to the left, walking quickly. Within minutes he was outside under the star-strewn sky. He appeared once more to know where he was going. He continued walking for several minutes, and when he turned a corner, she spied the open palace grounds, the green, grassy fields where the Masters sometimes trained, playing at war games. In the far distance, across that unblemished expanse of ground, was a grotto. And within that copse of trees... a kind of chapel, the King of Eternia's private shrine to the Elders. It was filled with small statues of the Elders, all made of marble so white that they glowed even on the darkest of nights. How revolting, and how typical. The statues themselves were surrounded by beds of flowers, burners filled with the finest incense. A small waterfall created little streams that wove around the marble figures. It was the perfect spot for meditation, for wrestling with an intractable problem, for contemplation... for desperation.

Once inside grotto, Randor fell to his knees before the life-size statue of the leader of the Council of Elders. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Please, my lord, help him. Please." He dropped his face into his hands and began to sob.

"Well," she said aloud, speaking only to herself. "Now this is getting interesting."

* * *

Duncan found Cringer still caught in the midst of a drug-induced slumber. The large cat had been so agitated when Adam did not appear to comfort him and ease his pain that Duncan had been forced to sedate him to prevent further injuries. It was a miracle Cringer was alive at all. Moments after Adam was rushed to the infirmary, the Masters had all been shocked to hear soft cries coming from the rubble. With a shout of, "Cringer!" Teela had plunged back in. She dug desperately near the spot where Adam had been buried, leaving bloody handprints on the stones she moved. The rescue effort was renewed in force. Minutes later they pulled a piteously mewing Cringer, his fur matted dark with blood, from a small hollow in the mass of stone. A long jagged gash in his side still bled in sluggish spurts. Duncan's mind had flashed back to the day, so many years gone, when Adam had brought home a wild cub, sickly and injured. He'd warned Adam, already hopelessly attached to the frail creature, that the small tiger might not live. The earnest young prince had looked up at Duncan, complete faith shining in his blue eyes. "You'll fix him, Man-At-Arms. I know you will."

"Get him to my lab!" Duncan had ordered, gazing worriedly at the now grown tiger.

Cringer had rubbed weakly against the gentle hands which lifted him onto a stretcher. His nose twitched feebly as he searched for the particular hands that were always there to comfort him. When he didn't find them, his howl of grief and fear made them all jump. _I won't let him die. How could I face Adam if I let him die?_

Duncan had worked feverishly over the wounded tiger for two hours. Though he'd lost a great deal of blood, explaining Adam's sopping clothing, his injuries were actually moderate. Duncan had closed the wounds and replaced the lost blood. In the end, he'd been able to tell the Masters with confidence that Cringer would live. No such verdict had yet been rendered for Cringer's master.

As much as Duncan had dreaded the thought of having to tell Adam that Cringer was dead, he now feared that... that he might have to tell Cringer- _I can't think like this. I have to be positive. Adam will survive. He's He-Man. The Elders won't let him die. Not like this. Not the hero of the people. Defender of Eternia. Champion of justice. Strongest man in the universe. Sixteen. Young. Insecure. Soft hearted... _

Duncan wandered the confines of the lab. He tried to work on his inventions, to do something productive, but he couldn't manage to concentrate on anything for more than a couple of minutes at a time. _I've been promising He-Man those scanners for monitoring Snake Mountain for two weeks. If those had been in place today, we would have known that Skeletor and his minions were on their way before they ever got near the palace._ Duncan sat down on the pivoting stool before the workbench where the prototypes were mounted. He stared at them - wires, casings, circuits, diagrams, useless - for five minutes before an anemic cry from the other end of the room drew his attention.

Swiveling around, he called into the shadows. "Cringer?"

"Mr-eow."

Duncan bounded to his feet and rushed to the tiger. Cringer, drowsy but most definitely awake, was fruitlessly attempting to stand. Paws kicked ineffectually as the great head lifted itself off the table. "Cringer," Duncan soothed, a smile in his voice. "Cringer, you're all right. You're safe." He stroked the cat, careful to avoid the bandages. The tiger's head pivoted, eyes searching the shadowy lab. The eyes settled on Duncan for a moment, then began the search again.

"Mrowl!"

Duncan sighed. "He's not here, Cringer. I'm sorry."

Huge golden eyes suffused with pain and longing gazed up at him. He squirmed internally under the intensity of the feline scrutiny, but he did not stop petting the soft green and yellow fur. "You're ok, boy. You're ok."

Though he lifted his head periodically to search the shadows, Cringer gradually drifted back to sleep under the gentle rhythm of Duncan's caresses. When the compressor powering one of his experiments suddenly kicked back on, the dozing cat nearly leapt from the table. It was all Duncan could do to keep the injured feline from running away to hide. The cloak which had covered the cat - hastily donated by a concerned guard - flew to the floor. "Cringer!" he cried. "Cringer! I'm here. Shhhhh. It's ok. I'll stay with you." The tiger began to whine pitifully, the pathetic sounds accompanied by shivers that shook him from whiskers to tail tip. Duncan pulled a silvery thermal field blanket from a cupboard and tucked it around the trembling tiger. Once the cat was tightly wrapped and reasonably warm, Duncan walked rapidly around the lab turning on all the lights - _only cat in the world that's afraid of the dark_ - and shutting off every project or machine that might make noise. Then he pulled a chair over to the table where Cringer lay, still shivering lightly.

"I'll stay with you," he assured the frightened cat. "You can stay with me, here in the lab or in my rooms until Adam's better. I promise." At the sound of his master's name, the tiger howled piteously and covered his eyes with a paw. His tail, tip sticking out from under the blanket, twitched timorously. Duncan rubbed his head and ears, being sure to hit all the spots that the prince usually scratched when the cowardly tiger was frightened. Gradually, the tactile therapy worked and the cat shopped shivering.

"I know just how you feel, Cringer," he said as the cat finally sank back into a troubled slumber. "I'm frightened too."

When false dawn came, Cringer was at last in the depths of a true, dreamless sleep, and Duncan felt reasonably safe leaving his side. Getting up, he walked about the lab to stretch his aching muscles, pausing occasionally to sigh over the experiments he'd ruined for the sake of Cringer's sleep. Finally, his steps brought him to the room's largest window, the one that overlooked the enormous statues of the Elders, the king's monument to the lost Hall of Wisdom. Duncan stared out at the figures, lit now by soft lights in this pre-dawn darkness. In his mind, though, he saw the pale, still body of a sixteen-year-old boy. All that weight on those young shoulders. _What will I do, if he dies? _Duncan wondered. _What will Cringer do? What will Eternia do without its champion? What will any of us do without He-Man?_

* * *

Prince Adam's heart stopped twice during the night.

Through heroic efforts, the healers were able to revive him each time, but he remained in a coma.

It was a somber group that gathered in the infirmary garden the next morning to hear this news. _He died, _Duncan thought. _Twice. _Duncan had not slept as he sat up with Cringer all night. With the coming of dawn, he'd hoped for positive news about the prince's condition. Some sort of news he could use to reassure the anxious cat. _Oh, Cringer, I'm sorry. Positive news... no. Only sixteen and he died._ Duncan wondered if the king and queen had gotten any sleep at all. Other faces in the gathering certainly showed signs of a restless night. Teela had come in several times during those overlong, painful hours to check on Cringer. Once she'd almost walked in on Duncan while he was attempting, without notable success, to contact the Sorceress of Grayskull. After that near miss, he'd ordered her to go to her bed and stay there. To judge by the shadows under her eyes, she had probably spent the rest of the hours of darkness staring at her bedroom ceiling - or the window of Adam's sickroom.

Duncan already knew that Ram-Man, Stratos and Man-E-Faces had spent the night patrolling the perimeter around the infirmary, acting as self-appointed guards to the wounded prince and his distracted parents. Buzz Off, Mekanek, Orko... they all looked weary. In truth, a pall had fallen over the entire palace. Everyone, from the members of the Guard to the kitchen helpers, was disheartened by the dearth of reassuring news. Everyone felt and looked rundown. Everyone, that is, except Adam's mother. Queen Marlena, standing before the garden's central fountain, certainly looked fresh and rested - cool and calm like the fountain. But after more than twenty years in her lord's service, Duncan knew that Marlena could look cool and calm in the middle of burning building.

This was another kind of trial entirely.

Tired or not, the assembled Masters gave the queen their complete attention. "The healers tell us that Adam's injuries are too..." When Marlena's voice broke, they all winced. Teela rose from her perch on the edge of a stone planter as if she meant to go to the queen, perhaps lend support, but she subsided when Marlena continued as if nothing had happened. "His injuries are extensive and, quite simply, beyond their skill. Perhaps beyond anyone's skill to heal." Even after all they'd seen last night, Duncan could tell that the Masters were stunned by the queen's words. When Marlena dropped her eyes to the paving stones and fell silent, Teela did run to her. The Captain of the Guard even forgot herself so far as to pull the queen into her arms. Marlena did not protest. _Well, the queen is a sort of foster mother to Teela. Perhaps they can offer each other some kind of comfort. The Elders know we could all use some._ The rest of the Masters, respectfully silent until now, began to talk at once. Questions. Denials. More questions. _Don't they know she's not done? Don't they see that there's more she's trying to find the courage to say? She's not done yet._

"Quiet," he said, but no one heard him.

Duncan took a long, deep breath.

"QUIET!"

Every head swiveled in Duncan's direction, including Queen Marlena's. Mekanek, looking sheepish, slowly retracted his neck. It had become more and more twisty as he'd argued with Ram-Man. Man-E-Monster changed back into Man-E-Faces and dropped cross-legged to the tiled walkway looking abashed. Buzz-Off didn't halt the agitated thrumming of his wings, but he was plainly trying, so Duncan chose not to take him to task for it. "Please allow the Queen to continue." Marlena, her arm still around Teela's waist, didn't look as if she wanted to go on, but she nodded and collected her serenity once again, wrapping it around her like a cloak - or a shield. Her eyes were noticeably brighter than they had been.

"Adam is... he is not expected to live through this night." Duncan's stomached clenched, and for several seconds he stopped breathing. _I thought I was ready. I though I'd prepared myself for this, but I was so wrong..._ "Randor wanted... he would have come to tell you all himself, but... he wanted, he needed to stay with Adam." Teela's eyes brimmed with tears, and she hid her face against the queen's shoulder. Motherly instincts engaged, Marlena rubbed her back soothingly. _She shouldn't be embarrassed to cry,_ Duncan thought. _There's not a dry eye in this garden. Well, maybe Buzz-Off. I don't think Andrenids can cry._ Surreptitiously wiping away his own tears, Duncan walked over and extracted his daughter from the queen's arms. Teela willingly buried herself in her father's embrace.

For the first time that morning, Marlena addressed Duncan directly. "I know that you and Teela are especially close to Adam. If you would... would like to come see him before... well..." She couldn't finish. Shaking her head sorrowfully, the queen turned to go.

"Your highness!" Stratos leapt into the air and landed before her. Kneeling, the winged warrior took one of her hands and pressed it to his brow. "Is there nothing we can do?!" he pleaded. "Is there no hope?"

Marlena smiled heartbreakingly, still serene, and leaned down to kiss the Avion tenderly on the top of the head. "There is always hope, good Stratos. There is always hope."

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

"Where is He-Man? That's what I want to know," Buzz-Off demanded, vibrating furiously. "He always comes when King Randor's in danger, so why isn't he here?"

"Uh... but the king's not the one in danger this time, is he?" Ram-Man said, scratching his head thoughtfully. "It's Prince Adam who's..."

"What you're implying is-"

"There must be a-"

Teela stiffened in Duncan's arms, but, surprisingly, she did not leap to the defense of Eternia's hero. Duncan opened his mouth, prepared to offer some explanation for He-Man's absence, but... what should he say? If... when... Adam dies... they'll all know the truth soon enough.

"We can't let this happen! We've got to-"

"He'll come! He'll find a way to-"

"Yeah, but, what if he doesn't want to-"

"Arrrggggg!" Every head turned toward Man-E who had resumed his monster form. "Listen to yourselves," he growled, drowning them all out. "How can you doubt He-Man?" His features whirled and suddenly they were all looking at Man-E-Faces once more. "How can you doubt he'd help if he could? If he even knew?"

"Man-E's right," Ram-Man announced, glaring at Buzz-Off who glared right back at his fellow Master. "He-Man doesn't know what's happened. Somebody's got to go find him. We've got to tell him. Then -"

"Then what?" Mekanek asked, twisting his neck around so he could get a good long look at each of them. He sighed, head drooping on the end of his extended neck apparatus. "Then what? He's not a healer or a medic. What could He-Man possibly do?"

"Nothing, Mekanek," Duncan stated, breaking the eerie silence that followed the Master's question. "There's nothing he could do for Prince Adam now." Shifting his grip on Teela's shoulders, Duncan led her out of the garden. Orko, hovering along behind them, was uncharacteristically silent. The argument continued as they left, echoing down the pathway and dogging their footsteps. _Not that Orko has footsteps, precisely. I'm sure Adam could think of some appropriately sarcastic teenage way to describe this situation._

The three of them retreated to Duncan's lab, where Orko made himself busy getting food and water ready for Cringer. The cat showed signs of waking soon, probably due to Orko's fussing more than anything else. _He's taking this very hard, Duncan thought as he watched the jester flit from place to place in complete silence. I wonder if he'll go back to Trolla. Another friend lost... _Teela, also silent, stood and looked out the lab's western-facing window. From that spot, you could almost see the practice field where she and Adam would joust. _Not that they do that much anymore, now that He-Man has turned his life upside down. _

After Orko drifted off, perhaps to be alone with his grief, Duncan guided Teela to a chair and sat down next to her. When she finally stopped staring at her lap, he looked into her anxious eyes and asked if she wanted to see Adam before he died. "He won't know me, will he?" she asked, her words almost too quiet for him to understand.

"No, Teela. He won't." Duncan took her hands in his. "But that doesn't mean you can't tell him how you feel. I know I want to talk to him - one more time."

"What would I say?" she asked, her voice very small and young. "What could I possibly say to a d-dying prince?"

"Teela," Duncan squeezed her hands, "Adam is Prince of Eternia, and one day he will... he would... have been your king, but he's also your friend. Forget the titles and make peace with your friend... or you'll regret it someday. Believe me, I know." Not that this is the time to mention him...

Teela bit her lower lip, and then began to talk very quickly. "I just can't believe this is happening! Adam's always haring off. He never gets hurt!" She pressed the heels of her palms to her forehead. "I just keep expecting to him to come running in with some lame excuse and another sarcastic quip. I..." Teela jumped up and began to pace, her arms folded across her stomach, her roan hair swinging violently. "I swear, I swear by the Elders, I'll destroy Evil-Lyn for this! I will! Her and all Skeletor's other lackeys!" Her back to him, Teela covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

Duncan stood hurriedly, prepared to calm her down, but then logic held him back. _No, let her get it out of her system. Better here than someplace where the king and queen might hear._ Hearing him rise, Teela whirled around with accusation writ plainly on her features.

"Why aren't you blaming me?" she yelled.

Duncan's jaw dropped open. He stared at her, startled beyond the ability to respond.

"I'm his bodyguard! The last line of defense; isn't that what you always told me? Well, some defense I turned out to be." Teela's words diminished in volume. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, she continued. "Do you know where I was while Adam lay dying? I was with the Masters, celebrating, congratulating myself on being such a great warrior." Teela pressed her fists against her temples. "Ram-Man asked where Prince Adam was, and do you know what I said?" Her voice rose again. "Do you?!"

_This has gone on long enough._ "Teela-"

"I said he was probably hiding. Father, he was dying!"

"Teela, stop!"

"I was laughing at him, and he was dying." Teela dropped to her knees, seeming to fold in on herself in her self-loathing. Duncan wasn't certain precisely when he began to move, but he dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms. She sobbed out her grief and anger on his chest, there on the floor of the lab where she and Adam had played as children.

* * *

"So, the prince really is mortally wounded," Skeletor gloated, reclining in his throne. "And it's all thanks to my plan. Why, I feel altogether inspired. What a pity that He-Man isn't around to destroy."

"You mean thanks to my earthquakes," Evil-Lyn muttered.

"What was that?" he snapped. "Something to say, dear Evil-Lyn?"

"Why no, Skeletor. I am entirely in awe of your genius, and thus completely incapable of speech."

"Not completely," Trap Jaw grumbled to Beastman. Evil-Lyn's eyes flashed lavender fire, but she restrained herself. Better to conserve power now and take unexpected revenge later. _I wonder if he rusts? If I dipped him in the Sea of Rakash for ten years, I'm sure I'd find out._ Ah well, slings and arrows, slings and arrows. It hardly mattered now. Let them pick at her. She was Skeletor's lieutenant, and would remain so, for she had accomplished something that the rest of the moronic minions never could. Even Skeletor had never managed the feat. She had finally taken out a member of Randor's inner circle.

"So the puerile prince will be dead by the next dawn, and Randor will be a broken wreck without an heir. Sometimes life is fair after all," Skeletor said sounding horrifyingly cheerful for a man with a death's head mask for a face. "Evil-Lyn, I am so pleased that I do believe I shall bestow upon you the reward I've been saving for the one who finally managed to kill He-Man."

Evil-Lyn tensed and leaned toward the throne where the bone-headed monstrosity sat, holding court. He'd uttered the magic word and had her whole and unwavering attention. _Reward? Reward. Oh... _She could feel her blood pounding in her veins as Skeletor watched her, something frighteningly like genuine benevolence shone in those dark pits he called eyes.

"Reward?" she asked demurely. "Why, what reward do you mean, Skeletor?"

The other minions fell silent as the implications of her question dawned on them one by one, those with half-a-brain understanding before those with no brain at all. Tri-Klops, still intent on the image from his Doomseeker, nevertheless managed to watch her with the eye on the side of his head. Beastman skulked forward, perhaps hoping for some of Skeletor's gracious generosity to lap over onto him. _Over my dead and rotting body, _Evil-Lyn thought smugly.

"Yes, dear Evil-Lyn, a reward. An artifact of power."

"What?!" Evil-Lyn felt her eyes widen to the point of alarm as the throne room fell dead silent. The only noise to be heard was the bubbling of the lava in the reflecting pools spaced throughout the large complex. _An artifact! But... no! Skeletor never... how... why?!_ For a moment, Evil-Lyn lost the ability even to see as her every thought focused inward. An artifact of power!

"An artifact?" she replied when she could see again. Skeletor was clearly enjoying her wonderment, but for once the fleshless freak didn't torture her by dragging out his response to her query.

"The Wand of Willamdora," he said.

Evil-Lyn stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped even thinking. The cosmos ground to a stunned and stupefying halt. The music of the spheres themselves was silent. Unfortunately, the meandering of the minions was not. When she regained her senses, Evil-Lyn heard the others asking Skeletor ignorant and insulting questions about the wand. Top of all their lists was why she got this - to judge by her awed reaction - extremely powerful and valuable artifact for eliminating one wimpy little prince.

"It just don't seem fair, boss," Trap Jaw complained.

"Yeah, Skeletor. It's not like she even did it on purpose," Clawful said. "It was just dumb luck." How surprising perceptive of him to point that out. _I shall remember his remarks,_ Evil-Lyn promised herself.

"I agree, Skeletor," Beastman gruffed. "It's wrong. Why does she get this wand thingy?"

With a blast of power that Skeletor easily blocked, she knocked them all off their feet and sent them flying to the recesses of the throne room. "Because, you fools," she cried, "only a woman can use the Wand of Willamdora." Evil-Lyn threw back her head and cackled rapturously. Then, spinning in place, she addressed the mighty lord of Snake Mountain.

"Skeletor," she breathed at last, "your munificence is overwhelming. You are truly the wisest of overlords."

Amused by her antics, and the others' annoyance, Skeletor smiled tolerantly upon her. "You can have it," he said, "when the sniveling puppy is gone from this world."

"Why, of course, my lord and master." Evil-Lyn bowed deeply. "Of course. I shall use it in your service all my life." _Or, at least, all of yours, _she amended silently.

_The prince is dead, _she thought. _Long live the king. For now... _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 -- The Anchor**

Barely an hour later, Duncan and Teela were on their way to the palace infirmary to say their goodbyes to Adam when Queen Marlena came sprinting along the path, her voluminous skirts hiked up around her knees. Duncan's heart seized up; his arm around his daughter's waist tightened. _No. He can't already be dead. There was supposed be more time. _

"Oh, please, no," Teela whispered, sounding lost.

"Man-At-Arms! Thank the Elders." The queen stopped before them, inhaled deeply, and said, "Hurry - the Sorceress - hurry!" Turning, Marlena ran back the way she'd come. Duncan and Teela quickly outdistanced her, and Teela beat them both to the door of Adam's sickroom. There she stopped, obviously frozen by the sight before her. Duncan shoved his way past her and entered room. What he saw stayed him in his tracks. The Prince of Eternia floated above his bed, his features blurred by a nimbus of brilliantly colored light. To one side of him stood the Sorceress of Grayskull. Duncan had not seen her outside Grayskull since the day they put up the Mystic Wall. She stood as one frozen, her eyes closed, her face and arms raised, rainbows shooting from her outstretched hands to the prince. To the other side stood the king of Eternia. The raw hope on his face as he gazed up at his son and heir was painful to see. For several minutes they all stood immobile, transfixed by the magic crackling through the room. Then, suddenly, the Sorceress brought her hands together over her head with a report like a cannon firing. Duncan squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his own hands over his ears as light and sound exploded all around them. What?

When he could see again, the Sorceress had crumpled onto the floor like a fallen blanket, and the king - the king was staring in shock at the bed where his son lay, stirring feebly. Blue-green eyes fluttered open, their gaze unfocused. Bloodless lips moved weakly.

"Father..." He was barely audible.

"Adam! Adam, thank the Elders!" Randor dropped to his knees and threw his arms around his son, burying his face against the boy's neck. The sound of his relieved sobs filled the otherwise silent room for many long seconds. Then, at last, the king choked out, "It's going to be all right. You're going to be fine." He pulled back and gently brushed one pale cheek with trembling fingers. "I'm sorry, Adam," he said, fighting to get the words past a throat dammed with tears. "I'm so sorry."

"S' okay, Dad" Adam whispered hoarsely. "It's okay."

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, Randor pulled Adam into his arms and wept further, now silent tears onto the top of his head. For that moment, Duncan knew nothing existed for the King of Eternia but the son he cradled in his arms.

_He's alive, the Master thought wildly. He's alive. He's alive..._

The Sorceress moaned, distracting him from this mantra and breaking his shocked paralysis. Moving quickly to her side and placing a hand under her elbow, Duncan helped her to stand. "Sorceress, are you all right? Do you need medical attention?" But the Sorceress ignored his anxious queries. Straightening to her full height, she spread her wings to their maximum extension and addressed the king in commanding tones. Duncan backed hastily away.

"Your Highness, hear me!"

Randor looked up, plainly surprised to find himself observed. The queen - who had been leaning against Teela for support - moved to sit beside him, one arm around Randor's waist and the other clasping Adam's hand. The prince smiled faintly at his mother before consciousness slipped from his grasp once more.

"Sorceress, how can we ever-"

She silenced the queen with a raised hand. "Heed my words, Randor. I have done all that I can, but Prince Adam's life is still in grave danger. Even now his spirit wanders the veil between the worlds of the living and of the dead."

The queen's eyes widened, but she did not interrupt the imposing figure before her. Randor blanched and cried out, "No!" His hold on Adam tightened noticeably as he gazed down into his son's wan face. The boy looked ashen and still desperately ill. And incredibly young in those over-sized blue infirmary pajamas. _Surely, _Duncan thought, _he was ten only yesterday._ "No." Randor's gaze focused sharply on the Sorceress. His eyes - so like Adam's - flashed. "No, I can't... I won't lose him. What must I do?" Duncan doubted that many people would have heard the tiny quaver behind the firm words.

The Sorceress nodded, perhaps in approval of this sentiment. "To begin," she said, "he needs an anchor, something familiar and dearly loved. Something to remind him that he is still needed in this world. Where is Cringer?"

Randor's eyebrows rose and he looked at Duncan for the first time since his arrival.

"He is in my lab, Sire," Duncan said, pleased - and surprised - that his own voice was steady. "He is healing well, but it will take some time for him to recover fully."

"Bring him to me," the Sorceress commanded, her tone stating that she would brook no argument. Duncan was out of the room and halfway to the infirmary's outer door when her voice spoke inside his head. "_Hurry, Duncan. I am weaker than I would have them know." _He pushed his way through the concerned crowd outside the infirmary _- must have seen the light show -_ and broke into a dead run.

Orko was feeding Cringer bits of fish from a bowl when Duncan arrived at his lab. The little Trollan took one look at his face and promptly dropped the bowl. "Man-At-Arms, what's happened?" he asked, wringing his hands. "Adam's not... he's not..." Lifting Cringer gently into his arms, Duncan said, "No time to explain, Orko," and ran for the infirmary as fast as he could go without hurting the alarmed cat. They must have gotten a good look at his face, because the sea of courtiers parted before him as a wave before the bow.

"Man-At-Arms!" Mekanek cried, his neck apparatus extending rapidly to keep up with the running man. "What's happening?!"

"No time," Duncan shouted. "Later!" The door to Adam's sickroom was closed, but the Master barely had time to consider whether to ask for assistance or merely kick the obstruction aside. As he approached, Teela opened the door, stepped aside so he and his burden could enter and then slammed it behind them.

"Ahhh!" Duncan yelled and staggered as Cringer used his chest as springboard to leap across the room and onto the prince's bed. The great cat howled in pain, and collapsed across Adam's legs. Only then did the feline seem to notice all the people in the room. When he saw the Sorceress, he howled again. It sounded distinctly like a complaint. Then he began to inch his way up the bed, toward Adam's face.

"Cringer, no! You'll hurt him," Teela exclaimed in alarm. She started toward the bed, but just then another flash of light filled the room. When the glare subsided Duncan could see that Cringer's bandages were gone and the - healthy?! - tiger was happily licking Adam's face. The prince's eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. Teela moved closer to the bed, staring in amazement at her friend and his pet.

"By the Elders," Randor cried.

Marlena stared at the Sorceress in grateful awe. "Sorceress! How? I thought... Man-At-Arms told us that you could not use your powers outside of Castle Grayskull. How is this possible?"

"Normally, I cannot. But this is old magic, older even than the power of Grayskull. I have bound my life to Adam's, and Cringer's into the bargain, and as such I can sustain him for a time." The Sorceress, leaning heavily on her falcon staff, no longer looked well. _What has she done?_ Duncan wondered. _What is this going to cost her?_

"For a time?" Randor asked, latching instantly onto the issue of key importance to him. "How long a time?"

"A dozen settings of the sun. No more. When the sun sets on the twelfth day, I must sever the bond between us... or die with him. I have given you twelve days, Randor, Marlena. Twelve days in which to find an answer. I can do no more." Duncan focused his gaze on the back of the Sorceress' head, doing his best to project his thoughts. _Is this wise? _Dare you risk yourself? She did not look at him, but Duncan heard her response quite clearly. _"If I should fall, another shall arise to take my place. But Adam... he is irreplaceable."_

Turning slightly, the Sorceress reached out and laid a hand on Cringer's back. The cat, still worriedly nuzzling Adam's face, looked up at her in timid surprise. "Hold him here, Cringer," the Sorceress gently instructed him. "I charge you with this. Do not fail me... or him."

Cringer roared an affirmation, shocking all of them, himself most of all. Finally, the Sorceress leaned down and spoke to the sleeping prince, her lips all but brushing his forehead. "I do not give you leave to go, boy. No one here does." Then, with a final burst of light and sound, the she was gone.

The king and queen hugged each other and their son, crying unashamedly in their joy. Adam _- lucky him -_ slept through it all while Teela looked on, feeling like a voyeur, but unable to bring herself to leave. She knew she should feel something more - joy, relief, but her primary emotion at the moment seemed to be a kind of vague numbness. _Adam's alive._ After the last day's anguish and agony, it seemed impossible to believe. Yet, there he was, breathing quietly in his parents' embrace. And Cringer... Without thinking about it, Teela reached out to stroke the tiger who lay stretched out across the bed. Cringer responded to the rubbing of his shoulder blades with a rumbling purr and a twitching nose. Hard to believe that the big, loveable, craven cat could pull anyone back from, well... anything. And yet, the Sorceress said that he was Adam's lifeline. The thing that would remind him that he's still needed here.

"Cringer, be sure you yowl good and loud to let Adam know how hungry you are," Teela said, startling herself with the sound of her own voice. And she wasn't the only was caught by surprise. Randor looked up and, seeing her, began to flush self-consciously. Marlena, eyes bright with tears, gave Teela a dazzling smile and then shifted from her husband's embrace to lock her arms around the great, green tiger in an enormous, furry hug.

"Oh, Cringer!" she cried impulsively. "Adam's going to be fine with you to take care of him. I just know he is." The cat trembled happily and nuzzled the queen's cheek while Teela continued to stroke his back. When Randor reached over to scratch his ears the purr became positively blissful. The only thing that would make him happier is if Adam reached up to scratch his chin, Teela mused. _Soon, Cringer. Elders please make it soon. Please... _

Teela turned to say something to her father, but he wasn't there. _Where could he be?_

"Orko!" Duncan rounded the door of his lab and ran to the Trollan who was hanging, dejected, in the middle of the room. Grabbing him by the arms, Duncan swung him around in an enthusiastic whirl. "Orko, Adam's alive! The Sorceress came. He's not going to die, Orko! We can still save him!" _And He-Man..._ "We can still save him!"

They stopped spinning and he clasped the little jester to him in a breathless hug. Orko returned the embrace enthusiastically, bawling his relief out on Duncan's shoulder. He let the Trollan cry for a few minutes _- never mind what I'm doing -_ and then pushed him back to arm's length.

"We've got to tell the others! I must call a meeting of the Masters' Council." Orko nodded, tears splattering around him. "Go and round up as many of the Masters as you can," Duncan ordered. "Don't mention the Sorceress, but tell them to come to the Council Chamber."

Tears finally drying, the Trollan gave him a thumbs up. "Right, Man-At-Arms. You can count on me!"

As the little jester disappeared from view, Duncan heaved a great sigh and collapsed momentarily into a chair. "I know I can, Orko. I know it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – The Masters' Council**

The noise level in the council chamber reached truly epic proportions when King Randor described the luminous enchantment with which the Sorceress of Grayskull had dragged Prince Adam back from the very brink of death. _If they keep cheering like this, they're going to set off the internal alarms, _Teela thought, her own cheeks aching from a smile she saw echoed on her father's face across the table. Orko, who had darted through the doors of the Council Chamber before he could be closed out, was spinning and bouncing in the air behind Ram-Man.

After several minutes, and much back-patting, the Masters finally started to calm down. His own lips set in what Teela guessed was an uncontrollable grin, the king motioned for quiet. His eyes still looked haunted, though, and she was certain she knew what was coming next. When the happy blithering finally subsided, Randor verbally dragged the gleeful Masters back to the real reason for this impromptu meeting of the Masters' Council.

"Adam is still in grave danger –" he began.

"What?!"

"No –"

"Danger, but –"

"But Your Highness, didn't the Sorceress heal him?" Mekanek asked, extending his neck apparatus to see beyond the bulk of Ram-Man.

Randor sighed deeply and the haunted look extended to the whole of his face. "No. She bought Adam time... at great personal risk. Yet, to truly heal him was beyond her power." His eyes seemed to burn as his searing gaze caught each of them in turn. "That task she has entrusted to us. I do not," The king's voice rose as he slammed his closed fist on the table, "intend to disappoint her."

"One does get the feeling that disappointing such a lady could have dire consequences," Stratos ventured, breaking the stunned hush that followed Randor's pronouncement and setting the Masters babbling again. Randor silenced them all with the merest lift of his chin.

"We have twelve days, my friends." The king sighed, the bone-deep weariness showing, if only for a moment. Then he straightened decisively. "My dear friends... Twelve days until my son dies, and – possibly – the Sorceress of Grayskull as well." Randor rose from his seat at the head of the table and stood with his hands resting lightly on the table before him. He looked around the chamber, his gaze taking them all in, weighing them, passing some unvoiced judgment. Teela felt herself sit up straighter when the king locked eyes with her. _I didn't even know I was slouching. How does he do that? Could I do that? It would really annoy Adam. Hmmm..._ "This council will reconvene at sunrise. At that time, I will entertain recommendations on how best to deal with this crisis." The king paused, took a long, deep breath and then forged on. "I will do anything –"

"Within reason..." Man-At-Arms interjected hastily. Randor let his gaze fall on his oldest friend and advisor. Teela's blinked in astonishment as her father dropped his eyes under the force of the king's stare. _By the Elders, I hope he never has cause to look at me like that._ No one dared speak into the heavy silence that followed, and, after a moment, the king continued as if he had never been interrupted.

"I will do anything to set this right..." Randor proclaimed. "Anything, to save them both."

* * *

"King Randor," Teela called as she trotted after him. _How can someone that old walk so fast?_ By the time Teela had managed to make her way out of the Council Chamber, the king was already halfway to the infirmary and she'd had to run to catch up. "Your Highness, please wait," she called again. _There is no way I'm going to ask him in front of Adam._

"Yes Teela, what is it?" Randor asked, slowing his stride and turning half toward her as she raced up to him. His tone was polite, but he looked distinctly impatient.

"Your Highness, would... would it be all right if I sat up with Adam tonight?" Teela flushed and hurried on as Randor's face softened and he regarded her warmly. "I thought that, well, you and the queen must be tired, and –"

Teela stopped babbling as the king smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Teela. That would be fine. Marlena and I will both sleep more soundly if we know you're watching over him." He squeezed her shoulder gently and then pulled his hand away as they continued down the path to the infirmary. His pace quickened noticeably when the large, low building, its sandstone walls accentuated in golden hues by the rays of the setting sun, at last came into view. She quickened her own pace to keep up and then broke into a dead run as a shrill siren split the air.

"The infirmary!" she shouted, sprinting ahead. "The alarm's coming from there!" But the king was already hot on her heels, his sword in his hand. Teela drew her cobra staff and together they swung through the main doors and sprinted for Adam's room. Second time today. Frightened medics and mobile convalescents ducked rapidly out their way. Teela barreled through the sickroom door and then came to a screeching halt as Cringer growled, fangs bared, and swiped one enormous paw at her. _His claws are out,_ the rational part of her mind noted in bemusement. The rest of her stumbled backwards, barely avoiding the sharp points of his claws.

Randor slammed into the back of her as she caught herself on the doorjamb. She stared at Cringer in stunned amazement, and thus was caught totally unaware when the king bellowed in her ear.

"Marlena!" Teela jumped and yelped as her spine vibrated from the impact of his words. "What are you doing with Adam's sword?!" Huh? Teela looked up. The queen, crown missing, auburn hair in disarray, was standing between the open window and Adam's bed, his sword held high over her head. _Oh, my..._ Frantic, Randor shoved past her. "Marlena! What has happened?"

Turning toward him, her chest heaving, the queen nearly fell as the great weight and unfamiliar mass of the weapon caused her to stumble. The king caught her in his arms as Adam's sword clattered to the floor.

"Randor," she said breathlessly. "A Doomseeker!"

"A Doomseeker?" he repeated, sounding as bewildered as Teela felt. "Skeletor!"

"It was hanging over the bed," she explained, between gulps of air. "I – I think it was watching Adam!" The king's face flared red, suffused with rage, and he looked to the bed in alarm for his son's safety. Hair spread about his head in a golden halo, long lashes brushing his cheeks, the prince slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of the chaos around him. His chest, beneath the blankets and pajamas, rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Where, Marlena?" Randor asked, quickly surveying the rest of the room. "Where is the Doomseeker, now?"

"There in the bushes! I hit it and Cringer –"

With a snarl, Teela rushed to the window as the king thrust the queen behind him. The crumpled remains of a – _yes, it's a Doomseeker_ – hung in the branches of a boxwood hedge. _What did that?_ Teela wondered, taking in the massive damage to the robot. _Queen Marlena... she can't have done that. Could she? Wait... some of that looks like... claw marks! Cringer?_ As she reached out toward it, the damaged Doomseeker began to vibrate ominously. _By the Elders, it could be a..._

"Sire," she shouted. "Get them out of here! It could be a bomb!"

"Marlena, Cringer, go!" Randor ordered, shoving the queen toward the door. "Tell the medics to evacuate the building!" Turning rapidly, he leaned down and ripped the covers off the bed. Adam stirred when Randor slid his arms beneath the boy's slender body, but he did not awaken. The king lifted the limp, unconscious form of his son into his arms and followed after the queen. Teela spared them one anxious glance and then vaulted through the window. Grabbing up the Doomseeker, she ran for the nearest hangar. She tapped her comlink. "Father –"

Man-At-Arms' voice, firm, calm and reassuring, issued back at her. "I heard, Teela. I'm on my way."

In less than a minute she was on a battle hawk and in the air. She soared over the moonlit fields and farms, mills and smithies. The Fertile Plains had never before seemed so teeming with people. _And animals,_ she thought as she passed over a shepherd and his flock. _This is ridiculous. I've got to find someplace uninhabited,_ she thought urgently. _But where? No time to get to the Sands of Fire. No time for Rakash. Wish Snake Mountain wasn't too far._ Then, in an instant, she knew.

"Father!" she spoke into the comlink, as the hawk banked sharply to the west. "I'm heading for Grayskull. I'm going to drop this thing in the abyss."

"Good thinking, Teela," his voice came back slightly distorted. "I'm only a few minutes behind you. I'll meet you there." Teela kicked the hawk into overdrive and sped for the ancient castle. _How long? How long till this thing goes off? How long? _Then, unexpectedly, the Evergreen Forest cleared from view and the massive structure of the castle was before her. The trip took only minutes, but it felt much longer with the Doomseeker buzzing unpromisingly beside her. Teela knew one thing with absolute certainty; the be-skulled edifice had never been a more welcome sight. With terrific relief, Teela hovered over the abyss and dropped the Doomseeker in. Now, if the winds just don't kick it back out...

The abyss swallowed the small robot without a hint of difficulty. No explosions. No rumbling. Just... gone. So was it a bomb or wasn't it? Teela quizzed herself. Unfortunately, there was no answer forthcoming.

She settled on the narrow outshoot of land leading to the castle drawbridge and awaited her father's arrival. _I wonder if we should check on the Sorceress? Father seemed very worried about her after she healed Adam. _

No sooner had Teela turned off the battle hawk and hopped out than her father landed beside her. Leaping from his own vehicle, he hurried to her side. "Are you all right?" he asked, his brown eyes crinkled in concern.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "I dropped it in the abyss. No problems."

Duncan sighed. "Thank goodness the queen saw it. I hate to think what might have happened if..." He shook his head and, pivoting in place, looked up at the skull-faced castle looming over them in the darkness. For several seconds he did not speak, seemingly lost in thought.

Teela bit her lower lip, enduring the silence as patiently as she could. Finally, when he showed no sign of moving within the foreseeable future, Teela put a hand on his arm. "Father," she asked as she studied his still profile, "shouldn't we check on the Sorceress? Make sure she's ok?"

"What?" He turned toward her, blinking. "Oh. Yes. I – Yes, the Sorceress is speaking to me now. She wants to me to come back later. She wants to see me after we know what we're going to do about Adam." He looked back up at the castle, his gaze seeming to fall on an arrow slit high up one of the towers. "She... doesn't wish to be interrupted just now."

"Interrupted? Is something happening?" Teela asked, disconcerted by her father's abstraction.

"No," he said curtly. Then, without another word, Duncan climbed aboard his battle hawk and lifted off. Teela, eyes widening in shock at this uncharacteristically rude behavior, followed after him.

* * *

"That... that... cat destroyed my Doomseeker!"

"Yes, and he's such a ferocious feline," Evil-Lyn sympathized saccharinely, false compassion dripping from her tongue. "Nasty beast. Though I must say, I thought it was Randor's queen who got in the killing blow. And her such a meek thing. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

"Protecting her chick!" Skeletor screeched. "Ahhhggg! This is impossible! They can't heal that miserable puppy. I simply won't stand for it! I want Randor on his knees, sobbing, screaming out his grief."

The massed minions stepped back in unison, alarmed by this – _well, you can hardly call it uncharacteristic_ – show of rage. Even Evil-Lyn felt somewhat cowed by the molten fury of his eyes. Still, one should never show fear before one's... allies. She stepped quickly forward. "Really, Skeletor," Evil-Lyn cajoled. "Tell us how you truly feel. It's not healthy to keep your emotions bottled up like this. You'll get an ulcer. "

She braced herself for the blast that knew had to come, but Skeletor merely leaned back in his throne and took several deep breaths. Shocked, Evil-Lyn scanned the faces of the flunkies but they all seemed as bewildered as she. This isn't like Skeletor, she thought. Evil-Lyn caught a baffled look from Tri-Klops and shrugged in response. Turning back, she discovered Skeletor's empty sockets focused on her, watching her with unnerving concentration.

"You are correct Evil-Lyn. Losing my temper will serve me nothing. What will serve me," his eyes flashed red once more, "is for you and the rest of these bungling fools to see to it that the prince does die! Find out how Randor means to heal his boy and make certain that it does not happen. Otherwise, I guarantee you will all need the services of a healer before the week is out!"

_Someday, Skeletor,_ she promised herself. _Someday, you will pay dearly for insulting me before these pathetic imbeciles. Someday your power will be mine. Yes, someday you will pay for every indignity I suffer at your behest._ But Evil-Lyn said none of this. "Your will is my command, Skeletor," she murmured. "As always."

"Good. See to it then! As for the rest of you..."

Evil-Lyn backed from the room as Skeletor began to scold the others. As she reached the exit, she caught Tri-Klops' gaze and gestured for him to accompany her. "What say we combine our talents?" she offered. "Together we should have no trouble whatsoever gathering the information Skeletor requires."

"What about the rest of them?" Tri-Klops asked.

Evil-Lyn smiled viciously. "Let them flounder. We don't need dead weight."

* * *

"We don't know for certain whether it was a bomb, but I never saw anything that looked like an explosion. I'm sorry, your highness. We probably evacuated the infirmary for no reason." Teela admitted, standing once more beside the prince's sickbed. Adam, obviously fighting to stay awake, was grinning at her discomfiture. Teela tried to glare at him, but somehow she couldn't manage it. He looks so ill. It's just wrong...

"Do not apologize, Teela. Better to be over-cautious than to risk lives." The king, sitting on the edge of Adam's bed, smiled at her in obvious approval, so Teela tried not to feel like too much of an idiot. _That's usually Adam's job, but I guess I'll be filling in for a while. Sigh._ "I assure you, Teela," Randor added, "Marlena and I are both thankful to know that Adam has you to protect him."

"Absolutely," Marlena agreed, nodding firmly from her seat on the other side of the prince's bed.

"Yeah," said Adam, startling all of them with his strained whispers, "my... o-own... Amazon... g-guard."

Teela's jaw dropped open. "Why you! You –"

"You and my mother," he finished.

"Oh, Adam," Marlena said, a decided chuckle in her voice. Randor guffawed and looked fondly at his wife. Adam smiled, eyelids drooping. Then, apparently exhausted by the effort of speech, he slipped back into a fitful doze. The king and queen exchanged a worried look over his still form, and Teela began to chew her lower lip. _If they don't fix him soon, it's going to get positively maudlin around here._

"Randor –" Marlena began.

Three heads swung around as someone knocked on the door. Randor nodded purposefully at Teela, and she went to answer it. "Sire, it's Lord Stratos," Teela said pulling the door open and stepping aside for the Avion. He stopped just inside the threshold.

"My king, my queen, please forgive this intrusion," he said bowing deeply, "but I must speak with you upon an urgent matter regarding the prince." His gaze strayed to Adam, sleeping securely between his parents.

"He is... no worse than before, Stratos," Randor said, answering the Avion's unasked query. "The Doomseeker did him no further harm." _And it's unlikely to now,_ Teela thought with satisfaction. _No way that thing's getting back out of the abyss._

"I am more relieved than I can say, my king," Stratos replied, his melodic baritone resonating with deep-felt concern. Smiling sympathetically, Marlena gestured him over to the bed. Stratos approached and stared down at the serenely sleeping prince and the enormous green tiger spread out across his legs. "You see, Stratos," she said, "There is always hope." The two exchanged dazzling smiles while the king looked on in tolerant puzzlement. _I'll have to remember all of this to tell Adam later,_ Teela thought. _He'll be dreadfully embarrassed._ Just thinking about his horrified expression made her grin.

After what Teela felt was a ridiculously long period spent watching the prince breathe, Randor brought the Master back to the point of his visit. "Well, Lord Stratos," Randor asked, "what is this urgent matter you mentioned?"

The Avion's gaze darted to the queen and then to the king. "I... would prefer to discuss this matter privately, Sire." Teela's eyebrows rose. It wasn't like Stratos to exclude Queen Marlena from... well, from anything. Or me for that matter!

"I see," the king replied, his tone exceedingly neutral. Absently brushing a stray lock from Adam's forehead, Randor looked to his queen. Teela could not tell what passed between them in that moment, but the king rose from his perch on the side of his son's bed. "Very well," he said. "Let us go to my office."

"Thank you, Sire." Stratos bowed to the queen and then, to Teela's astonishment, he bowed to the somnolent prince. "Rest well, my Prince," he said. "Rest and heal."

"Come Stratos," Randor said, eyeing the Avion with unconcealed favor. "You can speak with Adam sometime tomorrow if you wish." Stratos nodded his thanks and together they left the room. Teela sighed. Stratos has something to tell the king. The king will tell Father. Maybe I can get Father to tell me. Or maybe –

"Well, Teela, it looks like it's just going to be you and I and Adam for a while," the queen interrupted her train of thought. "I'm afraid Adam isn't going to be very good company for some time, so what do you say to a game of cards?"

"Cards, your highness?" Teela asked, startled by the lighthearted suggestion.

"Yes. Or chess or whatever you wish."

"Won't that disturb the prince's sleep?"

"Healer Dorgan told us, Randor and me, that hearing familiar voices would probably be good for Adam. But one does run out of things to say."

"Uh, yeah, I guess. Um, is gin ok?"

"Certainly." Marlena patted the bed beside her. Feeling oddly out of place, Teela walked over and sat down. To her surprise, Marlena pulled a deck of cards from the drawer of the small nightstand next to the bed. "Shall we deal Adam in?"

Teela laughed. "You know," she noted, "he's not very good at gin."

The queen laughed softly. "Then I imagine he'll have a better chance with the two of us collaborating on his hand." The queen dealt and Teela did her best to concentrate on the game, her hand, the prince's hand, and the steady flow of light chatter that the queen kept up. Through their combined efforts, Adam won most of the hands. _The only winning streak at gin he'll probably ever have,_ Teela thought sarcastically.

The remainder of the evening passed in a kind of surreal haze. It would have been difficult to judge which player's gaze most often strayed to the sleeping prince and his snoring tiger. Teela often observed the queen playing with Adam's hair or merely rubbing an arm. The most embarrassing moment, however, came when she looked down and realized that it was she and not Marlena that was holding his limp hand in her own. Luckily, the king returned – a decidedly odd expression on his face – before Teela could do anything more seriously sappy. _We've got to fix him fast or I'm going to be as maudlin as the rest of them. Geesh._

* * *

The damp stench of the Vine Jungle filled her flaring nostrils as Tri-Klops twisted the dial on his left bracer, and an image unfolded in the air before them, the escarpment upon which stood the Palace of Eternia. "Randor must be planning some grand gesture," Tri-Klops muttered as they watched the Doomseeker's perspective as it raced toward the cliff and up its edge. "Some heroic fool's errand."

Evil-Lyn slapped away an overly interested creeping vine that was investigating her arm. "No doubt," she agreed. Before her, the image changed as the Doomseeker made it to the top of the escarpment, over the walls and onto the palace grounds. It wove its way through the trees that lined the grounds, heading through the darkness toward the main buildings and the infirmary. It flew so fast that Evil-Lyn, who lacked the visual acuity of Tri-Klops' eyes, had some trouble following its progress.

Suddenly, Tri-Klops altered his controls and the mechanical scout drifted to a stop behind a large block of stone. _One of those gargantuan statues of the Elders, I think._ He continued to adjust his controls and the image suddenly zoomed in on a group of the Masters lounging on the stairs across from the palace's largest fountain. Accent lights reflected off the rippling water. Shadows danced on and around the heroic nitwits as they jabbered at each other.

The one they called Mekanek kept rubbing his nose and sniffing audibly until one of the others, that over-zealous actor, Man-E-faces, handed him a handkerchief. It was difficult to be certain in the capricious lighting, but she thought several of the other Masters bore red eyes and noses as well. _Dear, dear, dear, she thought. The poor heroes have been crying. What ever shall we do?_ Unfortunately, several of them also wore confident smiles. Their saccharine optimism turned her stomach. _With the fuss they're making, you'd think the pathetic wretch was useful for something other than comic relief._

"It's ok, Mekanek," the multi-faced monstrosity said, patting the other Master on the back. "He'll be all right now."

The long-necked loon blew his nose. "I'm not crying," he insisted, frowning ferociously. "I've still got dust in my nose from the rubble collapsing."

"Yeah, sure you do," Buzz-Off muttered.

"Buzz-Off's right," Orko said, floating up to Mekanek and pulling out an enormous pink handkerchief. The jester blew his nose with the sound of a dozen off-key trumpets, and the Masters all leaned rapidly away.

Stratos, that interfering Avion do-gooder, was perched on a stair several steps behind the others. As the sneeze-induced commotion died down, he stood and walked down to crouch beside Mekanek.

"One should not be ashamed to display tender feeling in such a –"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Evil-Lyn announced forlornly earning a chuckle from Tri-Klops. Smiling, he leaned back against the bounder next to her and gestured at the image of the Masters. Ignoring the nauseating view of the palace, she turned toward him.

"Tell me about it," he said. "Can you imagine any of us getting this sappy over Merman or fur face?"

"Please," she drawled, "don't be absurd. The way they behave, you would think we'd felled He-Man and not the puling prince. But, amusing as their syrupy sentimentality is, it isn't telling us what we need to know. How are they going to fix the little fop? That's what we –" She broke off her rebuttal as the irate diatribe of one particular Master drew her undivided attention.

"That witch!" Ram-Man snarled. "That mean, rotten, vile, foul, vicious excuse for a – for a – witch! We ought'a drop a wall on her!" He continued in that vein for several minutes, much to the amusement of Tri-Klops.

"I don't think he's fond of you," her comrade laughed.

Evil-Lyn smiled maliciously. "Really, Tri-Klops," she purred. "I consider those terms of endearment. Besides, I don't care what he calls me as long as that whelp they're all so worried about dies!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, an oddly gloating smile on his lips. Evil-Lyn focused her attention back on the image just in time to hear the hard-headed Master reply to a question from Buzz-Off.

"You bet! I think the ugly old hag did it on purpose. She..."

"Ugly!" Evil-Lyn sputtered in outrage. "I'll show him ugly," she vowed. "I'll make him so hideous to look upon that one glimpse of him would cause that boy to die of horror!" She raised her staff high in the air, gathering power to her like wisps of fog to the sea. Her eyes flared with lavender fire. "Babbling buffoon whose tongue does fly –"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Tri-Klops said, cutting short her incantation.

"What?" she snapped as the power fizzled away seeping into the ground at her feet.

"The mission," he said amiably. "Killing the prince."

At least he has the courtesy – or instinct for self-preservation – to try and stifle his laughter, she thought with some satisfaction. Evil-Lyn lowered her arms slowly, decorously. "You're right," she admitted. "Later for brick brain. But how much more of this do we have to watch?" She scowled. "Man-At-Arms and his wretched daughter aren't even there. They're probably in the infirmary with the king and queen. Why are we wasting our time here instead of –"

"Following him?" he finished.

She looked back to the flickering image and saw that Stratos had taken to the air. Tri-Klops must already have ordered his Doomseeker to follow him, because it kept the Avion in its sights as he winged his way toward the center of the palace complex. _Where the infirmary is,_ Evil-Lyn thought complacently. _Finally._

He landed before what must be the main entrance to the building and entered.

"Well, follow him," she ordered, but her spineless companion shook his head.

"No way I'm sending another one of my Doomseekers into that building. That tiger is probably still in there."

"Coward" she noted.

"Sensible," he countered. The image wavered madly as the Doomseeker swung around the building, staying out of the pools of lantern light. Finally, it established a position high above the garden from which it had an oblique angle of sight into Adam's chamber. Evil-Lyn curled her lip at what this new position showed them. Stratos was kneeling before the bed where Queen Marlena sat holding the young prince's hand. The boy appeared to be sleeping. _Like a little angel,_ she though scornfully. Far from distraught and downcast, the queen was radiant as she beamed at the Avion .

Evil-Lyn ground her teeth in frustration, but her torment didn't last long. Within seconds, the Master and the king left the room and the queen and that miserable Teela began to chat. _How sweet._ Tri-Klops sent the Doomseeker whizzing after the departing heroes. It caught up with them as they took up seats beside each other in a dim corner of the garden. The mechanical scout picked Randor up in mid-query.

"– that you wanted to speak with me regarding?"

"Sire," he began, formal as ever, "are you familiar with the legends of the Ice Mountains?"

"Some."

"Have you ever heard tales of the Snow Gryphons?"

Evil-Lyn took an involuntary step toward the glowing image before her. _Snow Gryphons?_ She glanced at Tri-Klops, but he appeared unimpressed by this opening sally. Fool. Evil-Lyn shot a spark of power at a vine that began to circle her leg. It withered and shrank away. _Oh, Tri-Klops. Poor, pathetic ignorant fool._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – The Quest**

The Masters' Council had disregarded more than two dozen possibilities for healing Prince Adam since dawn. The most ludicrous idea to date had involved abducting Evil-Lyn on the off-chance that she might know some obscure means of cheating death. To Teela's relief, King Randor quashed that one quickly. _There is no way that witch is getting anywhere near Adam in his condition,_ she thought angrily. _It's bad enough that the Doomseeker got so close to him._ There was no way to know whether the Doomseeker had been sent merely to spy or to do actual harm, but the king was taking no further chances with his son's life. Queen Marlena and Cringer – both of whom had proven themselves able defenders – were with the prince at that very moment. _Them and about twenty guards,_ Teela thought wryly.

Wait, what about...

"What about the ambrosia?" Teela asked. The Masters stopped talking. "I mean, I know it becomes toxic pretty quickly, but would it heal him first?" They all turned and looked at Buzz-Off, but he shook his head in frustration.

"No," he said, his wings whining in agitation. "It doesn't work that way. I wish it did –"

"Easy, Buzz-Off." Man-E-Faces put a hand on the Andrenid's arm. "We know you'd help if you could. We're all trying."

"It's just so frustrating," Buzz-Off complained. "We're getting nowhere! I –"

"I think," said the king, catching all of them by surprise, "that we have run out of options."

"Your highness, no! Don't say that!" Orko cried, unexpectedly popping into view above the center of the council table. "You can't give up! You can't! We've just got to save Adam and the Sorceress."

Teela, a split second away from tackling the intruder, took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Embarrassed, she tried to put her cobra staff away without drawing too much attention to herself. No seemed to notice, though. _Probably because they're all too busy trying to put their own weapons away unobtrusively._

"Orko," her father growled in exasperation. "I've told you a thousand times not to do that!" He began to rise from his seat. "Now get out of here."

"Now, Duncan," said Randor, his tone amused as he took in the mortified disarmament around the table. "Let him stay. After all, he has a stake in this as much as we." Overruled, Man-At-Arms sank back into his chair, glowering.

"Oh, thank you, Sire," Orko said, flying closer to the king. "But, Sire, you can't give up. There must be something we can do," the little Trollan pleaded, wringing his hands.

Randor smiled benignly at him. "As it happens, Orko, you misunderstood my meaning. We have a solution. It is simply... not one I would choose given any other alternative."

Silence greeted this revelation.

No one interrupted. No one so much as breathed loudly as Randor explained.

In the northern reaches of the Ice Mountains there were hidden peaks and valleys that no human had seen in untold thousands of years. Places, perhaps, that humans had never seen. In these lands, stories spoke of a sun that seldom shone, of snow drifts miles thick that covered lakes frozen the year round, of icy shards that howled through the wind and cut like steel. It was in these places, so legend claimed, that Snow Gryphons still flew.

Snow Gryphons... who hated humans and all races allied with them.

Snow Gryphons... who were impervious to all forms of magic.

Snow Gryphons... whose wrath even the Elders were said to have feared.

Snow Gryphons... whose blood song referred to as the elixir of life.

Snow Gryphons... upon whom Prince Adam's life might now depend.

Snow Gryphons...

_I think I'd rather deal with Evil-Lyn... and Skeletor... and Beastman... and ... _

"But S-s-snow Gryphons are extinct, a-aren't they?" Ram-Man said, asking the question they all had to be thinking. From his expression, he didn't know what to hope.

"No," said Stratos. "They are not extinct." The Avion, always very formal in the presence of his king, seemed more rigid than usual as every pair of eyes in the chamber focused on him and then slid slowly back to the king.

"Stratos and I discussed this matter at length last evening. Our Lord of Avion seems to know a great deal more about Snow Gryphons than the rest of us. Stratos..." Randor gestured for him to proceed, and the Avion reluctantly continued.

"I have seen one," he said.

"What! When?" Mekanek asked.

"Where?" Ram-Man demanded in almost the same instant.

"It was Mid-Winter day, fifteen years ago, near the border of Avion in the valley where the Mystic Mountains and the Ice Mountains meet. I was out for a flight, stretching my wings after the observance of the Long Dark. I saw the Snow Gryphon quite clearly, and I have no reason to suppose that the breed has died out since then."

"But Stratos, how close were you?" Mekanek asked desperately. "Couldn't it have been a hippogriff, or a giant eagle, or one of Beastman's griffins or... or... something? How close were you, really?"

The Avion's feathers twitched. Lips quirked he replied "Close enough to still bear the scars of the encounter. Believe me, my friend, it was a Snow Gryphon. Nothing else."

"Scars? Scars...!" Man-E-Monster growled. "And you're still alive? That's –"

"– unheard of!" Teela finished. _Stratos fought a Snow Gryphon?_ "What scars?" she asked. "Where are they?"

"Nowhere I care to show you, young lady." Stratos said sternly, causing Teela to blush. _Eek. He sounds like Father when he uses that tone. I'm a fellow Master. He has no business talking to me like that._ Teela crossed her arms and glared sullenly at the Avion, deciding not to notice the smiles that were being smothered all around the table.

Finally, Ram-Man broke the amused silence. "But can a potion of Snow Gryphon's blood really heal people?" he asked. The answer came from an unexpected quarter.

Man-At-Arms sighed, crossed his arms and glowered at his lap. "Yes." Everyone waited, but he offered no further explanation.

_A Snow Gryphon can heal?_ "Father," Teela burst out, "why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"Because I didn't know for certain until last evening. After Stratos told the king about the Snow Gryphon he tangled with, I contacted the Sorceress. She said..." He trailed off as if reluctant to put the Sorceress' news into words.

_Quit stalling, Father, _Teela thought irritably. _If he doesn't explain quickly, I'm going to stop biting my tongue and start using it._ She searched his face for some explanation of his strange reluctance to discuss the Snow Gryphons. His brows knit. He frowned furiously at... _nothing I can see. What's going on here? This is Adam's life we're playing with._ Baffled, Teela turned her gaze to the king's face, then wished she hadn't. _What?! _Randor looked positively irate.

"Tell them, Duncan." The king's voice was so frosty that Teela was not certain she'd heard him correctly. Her father jerked as if Randor had screamed at him. Shutting his eyes, he spoke.

"The Sorceress thought that Snow Gryphons were extinct. When I contacted her last evening and told her what Stratos saw, she informed me that Snow Gryphons do have healing powers. Their ability to recover from otherwise deadly injuries is, according to her, accepted historical fact." He took a deep breath. "Though she has never seen a Snow Gryphon herself, the Sorceress believes the legends of their ability to heal others. She thinks... it may be the only way to save Prince Adam."

"Why wasn't this mentioned earlier?" Buzz-Off asked in puzzled tones.

"Because..." Teela clenched her fists in frustration as her father shook his head, and then studied the ceiling, jaws clenched. _He's not going to answer,_ she though in disbelief. But the king answered for him.

"It was not mentioned until now because I gave Man-At-Arms my word of honor that I would consider other options first." The king's anger had dissipated as quickly as it had developed, and he watched her father with a kind of strange sympathy. "He does not approve of the traditional terms upon which the Snow Gryphons insist when they heal members of other races."

"The specific words that the Sorceress used," Man-At-Arms ground out, "were sacrifice and service. Sacrifice and Service. I don't know what the rest of the Masters think, but that doesn't sound very reassuring to me. And let us not forget that the Sacrifice and Service part only becomes an issue if the Snow Gryphons don't just kill you on sight. Or it might be even simpler. They might just refuse to help. Period. Or –"

"We have been through this already, Duncan," Randor said, sounding slightly exasperated but still sympathetic. "We have few options and less time."

"Then what are we waiting for!" Teela demanded, slapping her palms on the table-top and rising from her seat. "If a Snow Gryphon's blood is what we need to heal him, then that's what we're going to get!" _Hold on Adam. Hold on._

* * *

Despite Duncan's protestations, the talk rapidly degenerated from whether or not the trip should be made to who would make up the party. It was universally agreed that Stratos, as the only one of the Masters who had actually seen a Snow Gryphon, must be included in the party. _I'll go, naturally,_ Duncan thought. "Stratos, Mekanek, Ram-Man and myself," he announced, cutting short all debate and offers of assistance. 

"The old guard," Man-E-Faces noted. There was no hint of reproach in his tone, but his eyes were dubious.

"You could say that," Duncan conceded, "but that's not why I chose this party."

"Please elucidate," Randor requested.

Duncan nodded at his king and began. "You all know why Stratos needs to go. Aside from him, the others are sensible choices. We don't know just how bad the weather and terrain are going to be, but I would estimate that this will be an environmentally hazardous trip. We need Mekanek's special capabilities for seeing around, over and under obstacles –"

"What about He-Man?" Buzz-Off asked. "And don't tell me not to wonder why he isn't here. If there was ever a mission that sounded like it needs He-Man, this is it. So where is he?" The angry thrumming of his wings resounded through the room.

_Blast,_ Duncan thought. _I was really hoping to avoid lying about this._ "He-Man," he said, "is away on an urgent mission for the Sorceress. He warned me before he left that he wouldn't be available for several days, possibly a few weeks. We can't afford to wait for him." _No, we really can't._

"Why didn't you tell us that sooner?" Buzz-Off demanded looking stung.

Duncan shrugged. _Let him stew. Better for him to be annoyed with me than with He-Man._ "You're absolutely right that we need He-Man for this mission, but the bottom line is that he's not available. That said, we still need someone with extraordinary strength."

"Hence Ram-Man?" Man-E-Faces proffered.

"Hence Ram-Man," Duncan agreed.

"That makes sense, but... why are you going, Man-At-Arms?"

Good question, Duncan thought, considering his response carefully. "I – the weather in the Ice Mountains is bound to interfere with the party's ability to stay in contact with the palace via comlink. We're going to have to take along more sophisticated communications equipment and I will be needed to keep it operating." _I wonder if that excuse sounds as transparent to them as it does to me?_ To judge by the looks he was getting, it did. No one, however, was willing to dispute Duncan's right to make up part of the expedition.

"So, it's just going to be the four of us then," Mekanek said scratching his chin. "Cozy."

"No, it is going to be the five of us," Randor announced. "I am coming as well."

Duncan was pleased to discover that he was not the only one to object to this plan.

"What?" said Mekanek.

"No, Sire," protested Stratos. "You must not risk yourself."

"Is that really a good idea?" Ram-Man asked.

Everyone else just stared, open mouthed. _Well, what do you know? Other people are smart too,_ Duncan thought, pleased to finally have some support in his campaign to keep Randor from getting himself killed.

Randor glared at them all impartially.

"I am going," he said firmly. The room filled with babbled protestations. Duncan, for once, didn't have to say a word. He sat back, crossed his arms and let the others argue for him.

"Sire," said Stratos. "Please, you must stay here."

"Yes, stay," Man-E-Robot agreed. "It's logical."

One by one all of the Masters added their voices to urge the king to stay. All save one. Mekanek remained strangely silent, his head bowed, his hands clasped before him on the table.

"And you Mekanek?" the king asked. "Do you say stay?"

For several seconds he did not answer. _Oh, no. No, Mekanek. Please, no...Please don't say it. Don't mention..._

"I know... what it's like... to lose a son," he said. He looked up, his demeanor bathed in an old sorrow. "Go, Randor. Go, and don't let anyone stop you. Not even us."

_That's done it._ Duncan put a hand over his eyes and began to mutter. "Teela's not coming. At least I have that to comfort me."

"What? Why?" She leaned forward, looking anxiously from her father to the king and back again. "Your Highness, please, I assumed that my going was a foregone conclusion. I –"

Randor cut her off sharply. "Captain Teela, you are staying behind to protect my son. That is not debatable."

Teela's brows rose. "To protect Adam? Oh... I... Oh." From the look of her face she was desperately searching for some logical way to counter this royal command. "Surely –"

"No, Teela," the king said, an unmistakable note of finality in his voice. "With so many of the Masters gone, I am counting on you, personally, to protect Adam. Skeletor must realize what has happened by now, and it would hardly be like him to let such an opportunity for mayhem pass by unexploited." Randor shook his head and then smiled, his eyes strangely alight. "Besides, Adam is in absolutely no condition to protect himself. This hardly seems the time to deprive him of his very own Amazon guard."

Teela sputtered as the Masters all laughed at this description of the Captain of the Guard. Even her father laughed quietly. But as the mirth subsided, Randor grew solemn once more.

"I assure you, Man-E-Faces, Buzz-Off, that the decision to leave some of the Masters behind was not an easy one. Your task, to wait and remain vigilant, will perhaps be the most difficult of all. I am depending upon you to guard the palace, to defend my family and to protect Grayskull."

Man-E-Faces and Buzz-Off shared an ironic glance.

"But hey, no pressure," Man-E-Faces sang just before he spun into his robot form. "I calculate the odds that Buzz-Off and I, alone, could hold off a concerted attack by Skeletor's forces at –"

"Please do not continue," Randor sighed. "You shall not be completely alone. Sy-Klone and Roboto should return from their mission in the Sands of Time within the next few days. Teela will remain, and I will be placing the whole of the palace defenses under her authority, including the Royal Guard."

"All of it!" Teela squeaked. "Oh."

"Yes, Captain," Randor replied. "In my absence, you will answer only to the queen. Upon my return, you will answer only to me for any actions you take during this crisis."

_Oh, fabulous. Like Man-E said, no pressure. The queen, huh? Guess that means I'm basically going to be in charge... of the whole kingdom. Adam, when you're better I'm going to pummel you!_

* * *

Evil-Lyn stepped out of the shadows before Skeletor's throne, hands clasped demurely behind her back. Skeletor noted her arrival internally, but he did not pause in his machinations to acknowledge her. "You see, Trap Jaw," he said, holding a filigreed crystal pendant out at arm's length to swing from his fingertips, "with the Crystal of Cathor I will finally be able to defeat He-Man and those wretched Masters. Grayskull will be mine!" 

"Uh, I don't know, Skeletor," Clawful murmured doubtfully, edging closer to peer into the depths of the swinging talisman. "It just looks like a dirty rock to me." The colossally clumsy crustacean held out a claw and pulled the crystal closer for a better look. The tip of his pincer caught in the silvery chain and yanked it from Skeletor's hand; it fell to the basalt steps before the throne and smashed into a multitude of minute fragments.

"Uhhhh," Clawful groped for words to mitigate his hapless actions as the Overlord of Evil's eyes erupted like twin volcanoes. He began to back away and Skeletor watched him go with a steady, malevolent gaze. When he reached the base of the steps, the crustacean swung around and ran for the nearest exit. With an infuriated cry, Skeletor sent a ram's head shaped bolt of power slicing through the air after him. It followed the dolt around every corner he turned and would no doubt catch up with him momentarily.

"Incompetent fool!" Skeletor shouted, leaping to his feet as his emotions exploded with rage. "Bumbling idiot! Why do I surround myself with such worthless, imbecilic, pathetic, inept, miserable, stupid –"

"– brilliant, intelligent, resourceful, accomplished, ingenious, capable and charming devotees," Evil-Lyn finished for him, her voice smooth as silk. Skeletor fumed quietly as he fixed his gaze on his chief lackey and would-be assassin.

"Ah, dear Evil-Lyn," he said dangerously. "How go things with the royal family of Eternia? Badly, I hope, for your sake."

"I think you'll be pleased," she said, smiling triumphantly. Then, however, her eyes darkened as she studied the bits of crystal strewn across the steps. She touched two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes for a moment. When they opened again, she studied him with a curious regard. "Skeletor, I've never heard of Crystal of Cathor and I sense no lingering remnants of power in these shards. What was your little trinket suppose to do?"

He leaned back in his throne and, negligently waving a hand before him, made the refuse vanish. "It hardly matters now," he dismissed her query, eyes smoldering. _Perhaps I can use the fragments for some other purpose. No matter._ "So, Evil-Lyn, tell me your news, or be gone and return to your surveillance of the royal family. I am in no mood to exchange witticisms with you."

Evil-Lyn smiled secretively. "Oh, Skeletor, I would never expect you to participate in a duel of wits unarmed." She winked at him and Skeletor felt his blood begin to boil.

"You go too far!" he cried, swinging his staff around and aiming it at her. Evil-Lyn chortled and stepped closer, spreading her arms wide so as to present a more ready target. He lowered his staff slowly, the power he'd assembled to blast her dissipating harmlessly away. What was she up to? "If you have something to say, Evil-Lyn, then I suggest you say it quickly. My patience grows thin."

"Of course, Skeletor," she said coyly. "I certainly never intended to annoy you." He doubted the veracity of that statement, but he allowed her to continue uninterrupted. "I merely thought you'd wish to know about the Snow Gryphons right away. If you're not interested..."

"What? Did you say Snow Gryphons?"

"Why, yes," she said, feigning innocence. "I see you've heard of them."

Lowering himself casually into his throne, Skeletor raised his Havoc Staff and shot a bolt of crackling blue power at the witch. Before she could even attempt to deflect it, the bolt encompassed her, trapping her arms against her sides and lifting her into the air where she kicked and writhed futilely.

"Skeletor!" she cried. "I meant no disrespect!"

"Indeed. Now, tell me, my dear Evil-Lyn, what exactly have you learned about Snow Gryphons. Believe me, I'm hanging on your every word."

Brows wrinkling, the dangling devotee smiled sheepishly, ingratiatingly. "King Randor plans a quest to heal Prince Adam," she hurriedly explained. "He and some of the Masters are going in search of Snow Gryphons. They believe that the magical blood of the gryphons will heal the prince. They're leaving for the Ice Mountains today!"

Skeletor released the spell abruptly and Evil-Lyn fell to the floor with a small cry of alarm. He stood and walked slowly down the steps, approaching the spot where she lay gulping on the floor. "This very day?" She nodded, eyes wide. "That's not much time." Evil-Lyn watched him apprehensively as he circled her recumbent form. _She's afraid. Good. It's about time she remembered who is the Lord of Snake Mountain and who is the minion._

"I – I thought that the Snow Gryphons' blood might... that it might..."

"Restore me," he finished. Evil-Lyn stood cautiously, watching his every move. Skeletor rubbed the place where his lips should have been, would have been if not for the King of Eternia. He turned suddenly and the witch jumped back, startled and wary of his anger. "Yes," he answered her unasked question. "Yes it just might undo what Randor did to me." Skeletor raised a hand to his face, touched one bony cheek. Evil-Lyn swallowed nervously and stepped back. Cocking his head to the side, he smiled upon her.

"You've done exceptionally well, Evil-Lyn. Far beyond my wildest expectations." She straightened and assumed a more self-assured – _self-deluded_ – pose. _Do not imagine that I need you, fool. Still, she is occasionally useful._ "Truly, you have done so well that I believe I shall give you your reward." He held out his hand and with a puff of green fire, the Wand of Willamdora appeared across his palm. Three hands long, the wand was formed out of copper with an ivory grip. It was narrow with a very fine tip, and Skeletor thought it looked more like a skewer for cooking meat than a powerful artifact – but the proof was in the magic. Strange symbols that seemed to flow into one another like water into oil marred its otherwise smooth surface. He could not decipher the inscription, but he did not doubt for a moment that Evil-Lyn would claim she could.

Evil-Lyn tentatively stretched her hand out toward the wand, her eyes very wide and very bright. Her mouth was open, and she wetted her lips nervously when the wand began to glow before she even touched it. Skeletor sighed. Impatient with her self-aggrandizing melodrama, he grabbed her hand and slapped the wand into it. She gripped it tightly, her eyes alight.

"Skeletor... I –"

"Save it!" he snapped. "I don't care how pleased you are with your new toy. Just be certain that Prince Adam doesn't live past the new moons!"

"I'll see to it," she promised him, tapping the wand happily against her thigh. "Oh, I'll see to it."

"Good."

"But, Skeletor, what about the king and the Snow Gryphons?"

"I will deal with the Randor and his wretched Masters." Skeletor's eyes flared as he contemplated all of the interesting and entertaining ways he could deal with his old nemesis. "When I have the Snow Gryphons' blood flowing through my veins I will be whole once again and more powerful than ever before! Castle Grayskull will fall and all of Eternia shall be mine!"

Skeletor climbed back up to his throne and sat, hands steepled before him. "Send for Tri-Klops!" he commanded. "We must know the instant that Randor and his fools leave the palace!"

Evil-Lyn nodded, touched her fingers once more to her temple, and called to her three-eyed compatriot. He must have been nearby, for he arrived in mere seconds.

* * *

With only eleven sunsets left, the expedition arranged to leave that very afternoon. A sense of overwhelming urgency swamped the frenzied preparations for the group's departure. Despite this, Duncan determined to make a side trip to Castle Grayskull. With his daughter in tow, he found the king in the main audience chamber, hastily dealing with matters of state that would not wait upon his return from the Ice Mountains. As Teela had expected, he was not pleased to learn of her father's intentions. 

"But, Duncan! Now?" he demanded, wide-eyed. "Why must you go now?"

"She must know of our plans, Sire. It's only right. After all, she is risking a great deal for us, for Adam."

"Yes, of course," Randor agreed instantly. "Only... do not be overly long." The king frowned and rubbed wearily at his bloodshot blue eyes. "There is so little time."

"I know, your highness," he reassured the king. "We'll be a quick as we can."

"We?" Teela asked, startled to find herself included. "But, Father, I was going to load the wind walkers." _It's not as if either of us really needs to go, _Teela thought wryly. _She probably already knows what we're planning. She certainly knew about Adam dying without being told. Or did she?_ She looked askance at her father, but she could read nothing save grimness in his countenance.

"I was counting on Teela to oversee the selection of supplies." the king objected, but her father shook his head.

"The Sorceress has specifically requested to see her, Sire. Teela can still manage things after we get back."

_Me? _Teela gulped. _Why didn't you tell me that she asked to see me?_

"Oh, well... very well." Randor rubbed his eyes again, as if he could physically push back the exhaustion that was clearly gaining on him. "I will ask Mekanek to begin pulling appropriate rations and –" The king swayed abruptly, but he caught himself on the edge of his throne.

Her father made an abortive move to put a hand on his arm, but some reserve held him back. "Randor," he demanded, his tone exasperated, "shouldn't you try to get some sleep before we leave for Avion?"

_And on the way to Avion?_ Teela amended silently.

"No time, Duncan," the king insisted, waving away his concern. "I will sleep... later." On that note, Randor strode away to make his own preparations for their trip. When he had gone a mere half-dozen paces, he stopped and turned toward them, his posture strangely hesitant.

"Duncan, tell the Sorceress... please tell her how greatly I, Marlena and I..."

"I will, Sire. I will." The king nodded once and continued on his way. "Stubborn," her father muttered, his eyes sparking.

_Both of you,_ she agreed.

Teela's second trip to Castle Grayskull was much slower than her first hectic rush through the darkened sky, but it felt faster. The dull gray-green walls of the fortress seemed to ripple in the rays of the morning sun as her father landed their wind raider on the peninsula leading to the castle. They hopped out on opposite sides. The abyss fell away around them, the occasional wind whistling up to tingle at their spines. Teela found herself thinking of the Doomseeker almost with sympathy, wondering if it had hit bottom yet or if there was even a bottom to hit. Duncan turned toward her and opened his mouth to speak, but she never found out what he was going to say. Father and daughter jumped nervously as the jaw bridge abruptly fell open. It hit the spur of ground on which they stood with an earth shaking thud. Dust rose into the air, playing tag with itself in the warm sunlight. No light shone in the yawning opening the jaw bridge had revealed.

"Wait with the vehicle, Teela."

"But, Father –"

He cut off her protest firmly, but with good humor. "Guard the wind raider, Teela. You may consider that an order if it will make you feel better."

She grimaced and folded her arms across her chest as he strode away, but she did not protest. _Not when he uses that tone. Ugg. I'm going to be sixteen forever as far as he's concerned. I could command the entire army, and he'll still be telling me what to do. Still, could be worse. He could be a complete idiot instead of terrifyingly intelligent. At least he'll never tell me to do something irretrievably stupid._

"I'll send for you when she's ready to see you," he called back over his shoulder. Teela nodded – _silly since he's not looking at me_ – as her father disappeared into the blackness.

* * *

His footsteps echoing on the wooden jaw bridge, Duncan walked quickly into the castle and through the halls of Grayskull. He had expected to find the Sorceress ensconced idol-like high atop her dais, watching the great eye – her window upon the world of Eternia, past and present. In this manner she passed most of her time... so far as he knew. _I wonder just how much time she really spends watching Teela. Or does she prefer to try and forget that she even has a daughter?_ Normally lit by magical nimbuses when visitors were expected, the corridors were deep in shadow. Brows knit, Duncan pulled out a light of his own. _Either she's extremely irritated with me, or she is even weaker than I thought when I last spoke with her. And I haven't done anything particularly annoying lately. Not good. Not good at all._ He entered the castle's main hall and looked up at the throne, but she was not there. The great eye was dark and still, a shadow among other shadows for no daylight ever penetrated this inner chamber. 

"Sorceress," he called. "Sorceress, are you here?" There was no response forthcoming.

Though the labyrinthine interior of the castle was enormous, the places where the Sorceress chose to dwell were not many. Blithely ignoring the illusions that popped up chimera-like and attempted to drive him off, Duncan swiftly checked the library, the sleeping chambers and those other few rooms on the upper levels where the Sorceress was likely to be. When he did not find her in these places, he made his way to through the maze to the hidden entrance of the crystal chamber. He tapped the stones beneath his feet in the correct cadence and suddenly he was lowered into a vast and infinite space where crystal formations receded into the windswept distance as far as the eye could see. Probably even as far as Mekanek could see. It was in this boundless place that the sphere of the ancients, the receptacle for all the power – _and knowledge?_ – of the Council of Elders resided. It was in this infinite chamber that Prince Adam's life was forever changed on the day he accepted his destiny and took up the Sword of Power. The day he became He-Man, defender of Eternia. It was in this place that Duncan discovered the Sorceress.

Many of the brilliant crystalline structures shaped platforms that defied gravity. They floated, unanchored and never moving, in that immense sea of air. On one particular platform knelt the Sorceress of Grayskull, white feathered wings folded tightly around her slim body. _Is she cold? This place is always chill, but she's never shown signs of feeling it before._ She appeared to be unaware of his presence, but with the Sorceress of Grayskull appearances were often deceiving. Duncan leapt from one landing to another until, at last, he reached her side.

Head bowed, the Sorceress faced the crystal in which was secreted the sphere of the ancients, that orb which must always be hidden, even here in the very heart of the castle created solely to protect its awesome power. Her open hands rested loosely upon her knees. Beneath the concealing wings, her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. She was so silent, so still save for the movement of her breathing that she might have been sleeping, but Duncan was suddenly struck by the disturbing notion that she was praying. Disturbing because of what it implied.

"Sorceress, I'm here" he said, calmly informing her of his presence and his patience. Then, slightly disoriented by the complete lack of a floor or ceiling in that place, he sat down a scant two meters away from her and waited. The breeze blew, the crystals sang harmonies, and he slipped into a kind of meditative haze. How long he stayed that way, he could not say. When, at last he withdrew from his contemplations, he found her watching him. Her luminous green eyes, so like Teela's, were wells of pain. Bottomless. Her face beneath the falcon headdress was lined by the weight of a triple burden. _Adam's life. He-Man's life. Cringer's life. Does she even consider her own?_ he wondered. _Do you know that we care what happens to you, Teelana?_

"Sorceress."

"Man-At-Arms," she replied.

They studied each other for a moment. Finally unable to stand her scrutiny for any longer, Duncan broke the taut silence. "King Randor asked me to thank you, for himself and for Queen Marlena. They –"

"I do not wish or need their gratitude. It is irrelevant."

Duncan's eyes narrowed sardonically. "You have it, none the less. I supposed you don't need me to tell you how Adam is, either?" he queried.

"No." She turned toward the hidden sphere, eyes closing. Her wings pulled back and one hand rose to touch the area over her heart. "No. I can feel him. I know he lives... and still dies."

"We're going to fix that."

"The Snow Gryphons?"

"Yes, if we can find them... and convince them to help."

The Sorceress looked at him once more. "The urrdai will aid you," she said tiredly. "If you can find him, the ancient one will have no choice but to aid you."

Duncan's eyes narrowed. _What does she know? What does she know that she hasn't told me?_ "I don't understand."

"Many centuries ago the Snow Gryphons lived in harmony among the other races of Eternia. At that time, the urrdai, the oldest living Snow Gryphon, swore fealty to the Council of Elders. He vowed in his own name and the name of all urrdai to follow him that the Snow Gryphons would serve and protect Eternia. He pledged to guard the power of Eternia from all evil and to support the Council of Elders in this holy cause. If he is a creature of honor, the urrdai is still bound by that oath; King Randor, as the council's chosen successor, may call upon the urrdai to redeem this pledge."

"I see." Duncan's mind raced. Could this mean that the terms he'd feared – sacrifice and service – were no longer relevant? Could Randor really just waltz in to the Snow Gryphons' lair and demand their assistance? "What you told me yesterday eve, of the sacrifice and service required –"

"That is not altered by their oath," she replied before he could finish his question. "The urrdai may still –" the Sorceress grimaced suddenly, doubling over and closing her eyes as she gasped for breath "– demand these things." Duncan rushed to her side, but he held back from actually touching her, knowing her pride and desire for privacy, knowing how much she loathed the violation of her personal boundaries.

"You are not all right!" he insisted when her breathing had calmed enough for her to hear him. "This link you've created between you and Adam, it's hurting you. You need someone with you, at the very least. Perhaps one of the Masters, or Teela –"

"No!" she denied. "I will have no one with me, Teela least of all."

"Sorceress, be sensible! If you collapse –"

"I will not collapse," she said, standing suddenly so that she looked down at him, her eyes hard as jade, her voice like steel. "It is only pain. Nothing more."

"Pain is a sign of something more, of something that has gone wrong" he insisted. "You should know that. Where there is pain, there is damage of some kind. You need help."

"No, Man-At-Arms. I understand you concern, and I... appreciate it... but this hurt is not mine." Her voice softened and she dropped her head until the headdress shadowed her pain-filled eyes. Her arms folded about her abdomen, her wings partially around her body. "It is Prince Adam's pain I bear."

Duncan stood. "Adam's pain? You said you can feel him, but this... this sounds like something more than that."

"Yes," she admitted. "What I have done for him – done to him – it is not natural." The Sorceress turned her face toward him, her tormented gaze locking with his. "His body knows that its time to die has come, but he is held forcibly from this release. The agony it causes is, perhaps, more than he could endure and remain sane."

Duncan stared at her, appalled beyond the power of speech. The Sorceress gazed back intently, crystalline reflections sparking in her eyes. Waiting. For what? Judgment? Approbation? He settled on inquiry.

"So, you are taking his pain into yourself." It was not a question.

"As much as I can."

One hand absently rubbing his mustache, Duncan studied the Sorceress in silence for a time. "I feel compelled once more to offer you the gratitude of the king and queen."

"Why? For causing their son pain the like of which they can not even begin to imagine?" she asked, her voice rich with self-doubt.

"No," he replied instantly. "For taking that pain on yourself."

"I do not do this for them," she countered, her expression downcast, "or even really for Prince Adam. I do it for –"

"For He-Man."

"For Eternia," she countered, "because Eternia still needs him."

"If he knew, Randor would thank you for that as well."

"Would Marlena?" Duncan lowered his eyes. There was no answer to this question and they both knew it. _I wonder though, wouldn't she? Only one way to find out, and I'm not about to the break the trust that has been placed in me._

"Nor I," she agreed. Duncan glared at her but his lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. "That's cheating, Sorceress" he said, keeping his tone light as he attempted to strengthen the shield he kept around his thoughts. _Need to ease the tension. She's too caught up in her own grief, her own fear._ Duncan allowed himself to smile. She tried to return the gesture, but it was a half-hearted effort at best. Her jaw clenched as another spasm rocked her body. In the throes of her distress, she closed her eyes and Duncan realized in dismay that she was actually trying to draw in more of Adam's pain. _Tell me again that you don't care about Prince Adam,_ he thought sadly. _Try to convince me that you do this only for He-Man's sake... try to convince yourself._

The Sorceress sank to her knees, returning to her meditations. I've got to get back, Duncan thought, abruptly realizing just how much time had passed since his arrival. _Randor will be frantic if I don't return soon._ But he dared not arrest her trance. Not when she was channeling pain away from Adam. Not when an interruption might harm them both. Far too many minutes later, the Sorceress sagged, catching herself with her hands against the crystalline floor. He did not ask how she was for he already knew the answer.

"Is Cringer feeling this as well?" he asked in sudden horror. He knelt down beside her. "Is he?"

She shook her head wearily. "I have spared him this. He would not understand. No. Cringer will ease Adam's suffering as he always has, with the warmth of his presence and comfort of his love. It is enough."

Duncan exhaled, nearly overwhelmed with relief. "Thank you. I... Sorceress, why did you summon me here? I must return to the palace; please, tell me now."

"Yes. Man-At-Arms, I called you here to warn you. I have had a vision." She stood, using her falcon staff to brace herself. "King Randor accompanies you on this quest?"

Duncan nodded.

"I cannot say he should not go. It is his place to restore his son's life; that is his fate. But you, Man-At-Arms, you must guard the Masters at all costs. I have seen them felled, the ice around their bodies stained dark. I have seen Skeletor drinking the blood of the Snow Gryphons, his skull mottled red like the icy snow."

"Skeletor!"

"Yes. This must not come to pass, or more than He-Man will be lost. The balance between good and evil will be irrevocably destroyed. You must guard the Masters lives, Man-At-Arms. Somehow, they are the key to this puzzle."

"Should we leave them behind?"

"No. They must go. I know this though I do not know why." She touched two fingertips to her forehead. When she spoke again her voice was husky, haggard. "Finally, you must trust a memory. Much will depend upon this."

"A memory? What do you mean?" His brows knit in confusion.

"I... I do not know. I'm sorry I cannot tell you more."

Duncan huffed, frustrated. "Very well. I will heed your words, Sorceress. But now, I want you to listen to my words." At the tone of command in his voice, her chin came up in proud defiance. _This is not a woman who is used to being told what to do by mere mortals. Hah!_

"Sorceress, listen to me. If the twelfth sunset comes and... and we have not returned with a cure, you must break this bond between you." Her green eyes widened and her wings shook agitatedly as he spoke. "You must," he repeated.

"You would have me abandon him?" she said perplexed.

"I would have you be reasonable!" _Would no one listen to him? Could no one understand?_ Forcing calm, he aborted an attempt to grab her by the arms and shake her. "Eternia can not afford to lose its defender, the heir to the throne and the guardian of Castle Grayskull all at one blow." Duncan's voice grew in volume, echoing back at him from the ubiquitous crystals. "Promise me you will be sensible. You must break the link."

Her eyes – his daughter's eyes – grew hard once more. _Stubborn. Why are all the people I care for so stubborn?_

"I promise nothing –"

"Would you have Teela lose her mother as well as her closest friend?" he demanded, pushed beyond the point of calm.

"Teela lost her mother sixteen years ago."

"Teelana!"

"We have nothing more to discuss, Man-At-Arms." The Sorceress turned her back to him, once more facing the hidden sphere of the Elders. "Send Teela to me in the main hall" she said. "I will not keep her long."

Duncan clenched his fists. "As you will," he acquiesced. "I will wait outside the castle."

Duncan strode to the edge of the platform and jumped for the next, and the next, and the next. As the last platform raised him back to the environs of the castle halls, he thought he heard the Sorceress speak again. It sounded like "Fare thee well, my friend."

_Stubborn._

* * *

Though she was staying behind, Teela was determined to help the expedition in any way she could. She personally oversaw the assembly of the field packs, taking special care selecting the equipment the group would need to survive in an arctic climate. No matter what else might go wrong, at least she would know that they had the proper supplies. One less thing to worry about for the next eleven days, she thought. 

Stratos had already departed for Avion. The expedition would join him there and then head on into the largely uncharted regions of the Ice Mountains. While awaiting the arrival of the rest of the party, Stratos told King Randor that he intended to search his people's archives for more information about the Snow Gryphons. He hoped he might learn something that would guide the expedition more quickly to the beasts' lair. Before he left, though, the winged warrior had paid a visit to the infirmary. Teela did not know what Stratos and Queen Marlena found to discuss during the hour they spent closeted together in Adam's sickroom, but the Avion seemed more determined-looking than usual when he finally left.

Mekanek and Ram-Man also took the time to visit Prince Adam's sickroom while Teela was overseeing the loading of the equipment and supplies into the wind walkers. Afterward, they returned to the main hangar where everything was being readied for the trip to the Ice Mountains. Teela, her body half-hidden inside the storage compartment of the king's wind walker, the Pelius, called out a greeting but neither Master responded.

"Skeletor has a lot to answer for!" Ram-Man barked out. "When I get my hands on old skull face I'm gonna knock him all the way to the Ice Mountains. I'm gonna hit him so hard he won't land for a week. I'm gonna –" _Right there with you, Ram-Man,_ Teela thought as she shoved a thermo-tent into the gap between a couple of food containers. _And so is half the palace. _Apparently, however, that half didn't include Mekanek.

"Ram-Man, calm down," Mekanek urged. "Getting yourself worked up isn't going to help Prince Adam."

"I know," Ram-Man muttered, "but he's such a nice kid. I mean, he's kinda like a mascot for the Masters, always hanging around us, and –"

_A mascot!_ Teela thought.

"A mascot!" Mekanek cried.

"Well, sure," said Ram-Man, sounding surprised by his friend's reaction. "I mean, he's a just little guy," – _was that a sniff?_ –"and it's not like he has any special powers or anything."

"Ram-Man, he's the same size as Teela," Mekanek protested. _Huh? Don't they know I'm here?_ Teela jerked up, hitting her head lightly on the roof the storage compartment and stifling a cry.

"Well, yeah," said Ram-Man, "but the she's the Captain of the –"

"And he's the Prince of Eternia! "

_Uh oh. I really don't think they know I'm here._ Teela wrestled with her conscience. Letting them know she was there would be embarrassing. But, not letting them know she was there would be... _wrong? Yes, wrong. How wrong? Oh..._ In the end, curiosity won out over guilt and she settled down quietly to hear the rest of their conversation.

"Look. I know he'll be king some day, but he's still just a little guy with no powers. He's just a kid." Ram-Man's voice darkened, each word seething with anger. "It just makes me so mad to see him in pain like that!" _Pain? He's in pain?_ "You remember when Skeletor caught him that time he was on the way to Avion with Stratos? Well, you didn't see how they had him chained up, or how Skeletor was gonna kill him, or how he charged the bad guys after Teela cut him loose, or –"

"So?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? Skeletor's had it in for him ever since then. I think he did this on purpose, and... Look, Mek, you don't think he'll die before we can get back with the blood to heal him, do you?" Ram-Man asked, his voice rising in anger but breaking with grief. "I mean, if the Sorceress of Grayskull says we have twelve days then we've just gotta believe her, right?"

"I don't know, Ram-Man," said Mekanek, his voice more somber than Teela thought she'd ever heard it before. "I really don't know, but I hate to think what it'll do to Randor if he dies." _He's not going to die! So don't think about it!_

"What about the queen and Man-At-Arms and Teela?" Ram-Man added. "Did you see the look on Teela's face when Queen Marlena told us that the kid was gonna die?" Teela started. _What look???_

"Yeah," said Mekanek, his voice low and sad. "Yeah. She looked like –" He stopped speaking, and Teela distinctly heard the sound of the hangar door opening. _Like what? I looked like what?!_ The Master did not finish his commentary, however. _It's Father,_ she realized as she heard a new noise calling out to the other Masters. _Uh oh. I hope he's not looking for me._

"Ram-Man, Mekanek, Buzz-Off wants to speak with both of you before you leave."

"Oh, ok. Thanks, Man-At-Arms. Where is he?"

The wind walker creaked momentarily, and Teela realized her father must be leaning against the Pelius. "He's in the north tower." Their footsteps had receded out of hearing range when Teela heard the words she'd been dreading.

"You can come out now, Teela," her father said, his tone decidedly neutral. _Ulp._ Teela climbed out of the vehicle's storage compartment without saying a word. Her father had straightened away from wind walker as she emerged, and grimacing, she risked a look at his face. He was watching her with an intent expression, but his body language didn't seem angry. _I hope._

"I'm sorry, Father," she began in a rush. "I didn't know they were unaware of my presence until, well, it would have been dreadfully embarrassing for them." Teela grimaced again as he cocked an eyebrow at her. "I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Man-At-Arms sighed. "What did you hear?" he asked, leaning against the wind walker once more.

"They were talking about Skeletor and about Adam, and they," – _Teela rapidly decided not to mention the mascot thing_ – "they said that he's in pain. Father, is it true?" Man-At-Arms scowled, and Teela knew the answer to her question. "He didn't seem to be before," she complained. "I though he was just, you know, weak."

"I know, Teela. So did I. There's no doubting it now, though. The king said he looks considerably worse than right after the Sorceress linked their lives. Queen Marlena is very upset."

"Can't the medics or healers do something?" Teela asked, bothered by the image of her childhood friend suffering without amelioration. He shook his head.

"They're afraid to give him anything in his condition, and I can't say that I blame them. If I can find him, I'm going to send Orko to Castle Grayskull to see the Sorceress. Hopefully, she can give the go ahead to medicate him." Straightening, he put a hand on her arm. "Let me know if you see Orko. If not, Teela, I'm counting on you to deal with this, if I can't find Orko before it's time to go. The queen... is going to need your support."

"She'll have it, Father. I promise you, she'll have it." _No matter what._

He nodded and marched away, but he stopped before he'd gone ten steps. Turning back, he eyed her speculatively. She was in the process of climbing back into the wind walker, but his fixed stare made her pause.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Teela, when you entered Castle Grayskull, what did the Sorceress wish to talk to you about?"

She hopped off the vehicle and strode over to him, nervously brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Nothing really," she muttered.

"Nothing?"

"Well, she lectured me about guarding Prince Adam..."

"And."

"And she told me a lot of stuff I already know," she complained. "About the quest and the Snow Gryphons and, well... I don't understand why she wanted to see me." Teela rubbed at a scuff mark on the polished floor with the toe of her boot. "It seemed, I don't know, pointless."

"I see." He stroked his moustache. "I see. Thank you, Teela." He turned to go.

"But, Father," she protested. "What did it mean? Why did she want to see me?"

"Not now, Teela." He waved a hand in parting as he swiftly exited the hangar.

* * *

With six hours left until the second sunset of the enchantment – _only 10 more to go_ – the king paid a final visit to the infirmary to say his goodbyes to his wife and his son. Duncan, who had been kept too busy to be able to spend any time with Adam, followed Randor to the door of the sickroom. As the king opened the door to enter, Duncan leaned against the wall in the hallway, prepared to wait his turn. His king had other ideas. 

"What are you waiting for, Duncan?" Randor said, holding the door open. "Come in."

"Sire, surely you wish to be alone –"

"Nonsense," Randor scoffed. "You are family. Now come in. Besides," he whispered, "Adam can only stay awake for short periods of time. If you want to speak with him, it had best be now."

Duncan nodded and entered the room. Adam was propped up in the large bed and drinking from a glass held by his mother. To judge by his scrunched up face, the syrupy green liquid tasted vile. _Ah, Duncan though in a sympathetic rush of understanding. Glop. Healer Dorgan is feeding him Glop._ Cringer, never far from Adam's side at the best of times, lay on the bed with his head in Adam's lap. Duncan could hear him purring steadily from across the room. One of the prince's hands rested limply on the great cat's back. His face is nothing but pain and shadows. He looks awful... is an understatement.

Duncan forced a smile and walked over to the bed. The prince watched him approach with wary, weary eyes. He looks almost... scared. Duncan's brows knit. _What in all Eternia is going through your head, boy?_ He took the chair the queen vacated for him, and reached down to grasp Adam's hand while Marlena walked over to her husband. _This must be affecting his circulation,_ Duncan realized. _His fingers are like ice._ "How are you feeling, Adam?" The prince's lips moved slowly, and Duncan had to strain to hear him.

"Not... so... great," he said weakly. "Sorry... sorry." Duncan felt his eyebrows rising. _What does he have to apologize for? Surely he can't think I'd blame him for this._

"You hardly owe me an apology, Your Highness. After a decade of constantly having to tell you and Teela to quiet down while I worked, I think I can cope with a little whispering," Duncan said, keeping his tone light. But Adam wasn't to be diverted. He mouthed the word 'no,' his head shaking ever so slightly. Though he barely moved, it appeared to require tremendous effort.

"No," he said at last. "S-sorry... for... sc-sc-screwing... up." His breathing became labored for a moment, wheezing through his teeth. Duncan tightened his hold on Adam's hand, wondering if he should call the medic. He looked to the king and queen for guidance. _They look upset, but not... well, I guess this isn't a surprise for them. Elders._ The hand in his went limp, and Duncan looked back to discover that Adam's eyes were closed. He shifted his grip and chaffed the prince's cool fingers.

"Adam?" he said gently, "Adam, can you hear me?" The prince's eyelids levered open by degrees, his gaze unfocused. He seemed gradually to come back to himself until, at last his eyes fixed themselves on his mentor's face. Duncan schooled his features to reflect calm encouragement despite the dismay that suffused him at this evidence of the prince's failing health. "Adam, listen to me," he urged. "None of this is your fault. It was just bad luck. That's all. It could have happened to any of us, Adam. You can't beat yourself up over this."

The prince didn't argue, but Duncan could tell that he was unconvinced. _I've pushed him too hard, he chastened himself. It's not himself he's worried about, it's He-Man. The Sorceress and I, we've pushed him too far too fast. No one can handle the kind of pressure he's been under. So how do I convince him of that? What a mess._

"Has anyone told you what's happening... what we're going to do?"

When the boy's eyes began to fill with tears, Duncan jerked back, gut clenching in shock. "P-please...please... d-don't..." Adam trailed off, fighting just to stay conscious, to make his friend and mentor understand.

"Don't? Don't what?" Duncan whispered, his words only for the two of them. _The last thing we need is for him to mention He-Man in this state. There's no telling what he might say. But I can't ignore that plea; he's obviously distraught over something. I've got to know._ Duncan slid nearer, putting his face close to Adam's. "Don't what, Adam?"

"Don't... l-let him... go. Please..." What? _Oh, Elders. Randor. I think he's talking about Randor. He's worried about his father._

"You don't want the king to go? Is that what you mean?"

Adam nodded infinitesimally, his lips struggling to form words. "Yes," he said, "d-don't want... to die... alone." The prince's breath caught with each inhalation as tears began to roll down his cheeks. "Please..." Duncan felt his own eyes beginning to ache from the strain of holding his emotions at bay. _He knows. He knows he's dying._ Horrified, he turned to call for the king and queen, but discovered that Randor was there beside him and settling on the edge of the bed. He tried to move away, to leave father and son alone together, but Marlena was already behind him, her hands on his shoulders. Disturbed by Adam's anxiety, Cringer shifted and began to lick the prince's hands.

"Adam, son, you are not going to die!" Randor said firmly, taking hold of the boy's upper arms. "I swear to you, I won't let that happen." The king fought back tears of his own. "You're going to be fine. You... you have a long life ahead of you."

The prince shook his tear-stained face. His lips formed soundless words. "Don't go."

"Adam, you have to understand," Randor implored. "Son, please understand. It's not that I want to go; I have to go. For your sake. I have to go." Adam scrutinized his father's face, and then – no doubt finding it as implacable as Duncan did – shifted his gaze to his mother.

"No," he mouthed. Then, finding his voice again he pleaded with Duncan. "No... not safe... He-Man... d-danger... don't let-" He broke off as shivers racked his body. _He-Man! Oh, Gods, Adam. No, don't tell them. No._ With an agonized groan Randor drew the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest. The queen's hands tightened painfully on Duncan's shoulders.

"Shhh," Randor chided him. "Shhh. There is nothing for you to fear. I will be perfectly safe. He-Man is coming with us, and when we return we will have what we need to make you well again. I swear to you! You will be well again; after all, nothing can stop He-Man. Shhh." Duncan's jaw dropped at Randor's words. He wasn't certain that the boy even heard the king's words, though. Adam continued to weep in his father's arms, his body racked by breathless sobs, until, at last, he cried himself out and slipped into a troubled sleep.

Randor held him until long past time for the expedition to leave, rocking him in his arms.

When Randor finally lowered the unconscious prince to the bed, Duncan fancied he could hear his friend's heart breaking. _Adam's ravaged and tear-stained faced is enough to melt the coldest heart, let alone the heart of his father. And he may never see the boy again... not alive at any rate. I may never see him again._

Duncan started as the queen silently handed him one of her delicate, embroidered handkerchiefs. He wasn't certain what he was supposed to do with it until the Marlena reached up and wiped a tear off his cheek with her thumb. Blushing furiously, Duncan wiped away the rest of his tears and tucked the square of linen into his armor when the queen gestured for him to keep it. Her own eyes were so bright that he was amazed she could see him at all.

* * *

Standing high in the canopy on the gnarled branch of an enormous baboa tree, cloak snapping in the wind, Skeletor scanned the horizon. _Soon,_ he thought. _Soon now, they will come._ He put a hand to his chalky forehead as Evil-Lyn's telepathic call came in. 

"They're leaving, Skeletor," the witch said, barely suppressed excitement making her words tremble. "Two wind walkers just left the palace at high speed. They should be over your location in a matter of moments." She cut the contact.

_Two vehicles,_ he thought. _Very well. Two it shall be._

Skeletor held his right hand out before him, fingers uncurling. In his palm rested the delicate and frail body of a dying Junarit butterfly. Its green and gold wings beat fitfully, but it was too damaged to fly away. _Just like Randor's brat,_ he reflected with immense satisfaction. _Broken. Still, no time to gloat now. Not yet._

Skeletor turned inward. He allowed his thoughts to dim. His desires and ambitions smoothed out and slid away, forgotten. Had he still possessed eyes of the conventional sort, he would have closed them on the world. He became the void between stars. Empty. Hollow. A well. And into that well poured the living force of the jungle around him. Skeletor specialized in the ways of the night, darkness and death. For those workings, his own energies were more than sufficient. But the workings of light, the shaping of life itself required something more. _No,_ he thought. _Not more. Else. Something else…_

The trees around the Overlord of Evil – save the one on which he stood, he was not fool enough to draw power from that source – withered and shrank from sight, falling below the canopy as the energy of their lives united within him. Then, drawing his desires back into focus, he concentrated the pool of light within him on the butterfly. It shook violently, powdery scales flecking from its wings and falling to his hand as the force of his will pulled it in twain. He imagined it screamed, but he could not hear it. _I must ask Beastman if it is so._ The Junarit danced in place, slowly splitting down its soft middle. Finally, its halves fell in dry, desiccated chunks to each side of his palm.

Skeletor poured yet more power into the creature, feeling the energy run along his skin like fire. The halves became whole, filling out, filling in, growing until two living butterflies rested upon his hand. With a final burst of power, he transformed them, mutating them into his creatures. _My servants._ Black and red wings beat in perfect synchronization, skull-like patterns flashing in the sunlight. Barbed legs pricked at his skin. One of them reached down and bit him with teeth it had never before possessed. Skeletor laughed and gently closed his hand around them. _Mustn't damage them now._ He whispered instructions to them through his fingers.

"Skeletor!" Beastman roared. He glanced to where the cur crouched on a branch meters beneath his. The oaf had one large hairy arm raised, pointing at the sky.

Looking once more to the horizon, he saw the wind walkers approaching. Long range vehicles; the sort, he supposed, that were suitable for a heroic quest. "Wait," he cautioned his mangy minion. "Wait." They came closer... closer... Now!

"Now!" he cried.

"Fly," Beastman bellowed. In response, a sea of color, a throng of Junarit a million strong rose from the canopy. "Fly," Beastman ordered them. "Fly to the ships. Fly." The butterflies crowded the sky over the jungle, a great beating winged cloud. The vehicles could not stop in time to avoid them, could find no possible way around them. They slowed, engines whining, almost stalling as the swarm clogged every opening. Sensors and wind screens blinded, they would be unable to land. All they could do was crawl through the sky and hope they didn't crash into anything larger than a butterfly.

Laughing, Skeletor opened his hand and propelled his constructs into the air. They flew, bloody, blackened spots in the whirling, fluttering mass of green and gold.

_Enjoying the show, Randor?_ I do hope you appreciate my little diversion. Skeletor's eyeless sockets followed his creations as they soared toward the wind walkers. The first ship to be struck was the Andrinor. The Pelius followed mere moments later. Skeletor threw his arms wide and screamed in delighted triumph as his minuscule minions sank their tiny, barbed feet into the metal skin of the vehicles.

_Run, Randor,_ he thought gleefully. _Fly like a hawk to save your darling boy. Beg the Snow Gryphons for help. Plead. Implore. Abase yourself. Run and I will give chase! Lead me to the Snow Gryphons! Lead me to power!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Carefully balancing one of Cringer's water bowls, Teela crept cautiously into Prince Adam's sick room. She doubted that she was in any danger of waking him, but Queen Marlena had at last fallen asleep in a chair beside her son's bed and Teela didn't want to rouse her. _Goodness knows she deserves a rest._ Stretched out beside the prince, Cringer raised his furry head from his master's chest and eyed her hopefully. She gestured for him to be quiet, but just then the door opened and a firm, familiar step sounded behind her.

"You can quit your tip-toeing, Teela," Dorgan cracked. "I'm taking the queen to her bed. She can't sleep in that chair for the next two weeks, or I'll wind up with two patients."

Teela observed the healer nervously. He sounded cranky. Dorgan was no one to tangle with when he was in a benevolent mood, and right now he looked far from benevolent. His salt and peppered brown hair was a mess and his robes were decidedly rumpled. The expression he wore along with the robes was... more than a little shattered somewhere deep underneath the surface. _Do we all look like that?_ she wondered.

"Don't grouse, Dorgan," Marlena muttered, pushing her loosened hair back from her face as she sat up. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I plan to," he countered. "Just as soon as I see you safely tucked in."

Marlena cocked her head and regarded him annoyedly. Teela's eyes widened as she spoke. "I'm a mother, Dorgan. I tuck; I don't get tucked."

"Hah."

"Besides," she added, her set jaw belying her normally sweet nature. "I want to stay with Adam."

"Marlena –" he began, his tone edging toward dangerous.

"I can stay with him," Teela offered quickly. "I was going to feed Cringer anyway, so I'll just stay." Two sets of eyes, brown and green, eyed her speculatively.

"Fine," the healer said.

"No," the queen said in the same instant.

They glared at each other. Taking advantage of their distraction, Teela pulled a straight-backed chair up next to the bed and sat the water bowl on its cushioned seat. Then, just to make sure her point was well understood, she plunked herself down next to the cat and began to scratch his shoulder blades. He lapped greedily at the water, and his purr resonated through the small space. "Food is on its way," she promised him. Cringer paused in his lapping just long enough to lick her hand and then dropped his muzzle back into the bowl.

"Fine," Dorgan said again, walking over to the queen's chair. "Teela will stay with him, and there are dozens of healers and medics in this place just itching to be service if he needs them. It's time for worried young queens to get some sleep."

Marlena eyed him frostily, reflexively adjusting the position of her dress on her shoulders. "I am not precisely young anymore," she argued, "and I don't believe that Teela has slept either."

His retort was swift and determined. "She is a still a child –"

"Hey!" They ignored her.

"– and can afford to lose a little sleep, your highness. We old people need our rest."

"I am not a child," Teela retorted.

The queen's lips twitched ominously. "Oh, fine," she muttered with ill grace. Rising, Marlena stepped over to the bed and gazed down at her son. The prince slept on his back, a powder blue quilt tucked over and around him. His arms were outside the covers, one resting limply on his abdomen. The other lay by his side, Cringer's green and gold striped tail curled around it like a long bracelet. His lips were slightly parted, the only spots of color in his otherwise pale face. She reached down, her fingers softly brushed Adam's cheek, and he sighed in his sleep. Teela bit her lower lip as Dorgan walked lightly up behind the queen and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Come along, your highness," he said, his tone gentler than it had been.

Marlena nodded and they turned away from the bed. At the door the queen stopped and looked back at Teela. "Send for me if he needs anything."

"I will, your highness," Teela assured her. If _he needs anything the healers can't do themselves, which is unlikely._ The queen smiled and Dorgan pulled her the rest of the way out of the room shutting the door decisively behind her.

Teela sighed. _Thank the Elders that's over with_.

A little while later, Cringer's food arrived. _The cook must be worried about him,_ Teela thought bemusedly as she observed the heaping platter of marinated, grilled sea bass. _I bet this is better than what I get for supper._ The tiger's whiskers twitched wildly as Medic Jonis set the food down on a small table across the room from the bed. He did not, however, immediately leap up and dive in. He inched closer, eyes trained on the mildly steaming fish, but he stopped when he came to the edge of the bed. The look he threw at Teela then was positively the most pathetic she'd ever seen on his face.

"All right, boy," she said, laughing. "I'll get it." She rose, strolled over and picked up the food, but when she returned, she examined the upholstered chair upon which the water bowl still sat with mild consternation. There were little spots of water sprinkled all over the seat. "Ummm."

Teela sat the platter down on the floor beside the chair. Cringer howled morosely in protest. "Hold on," she mumbled, as she walked back and removed the vases, flower pots and other brick-a-brack from the small table on which Jonis had originally placed the platter.

Unconvinced, Cringer continued to raise a ruckus. The tiger was so vocal in his complaints that she almost didn't hear it when his master woke up.

"What... you... doing... to him?" Adam whispered roughly, sounding vaguely grumpy and very confused.

In the process of folding the table cloth into quarters, Teela turned back to the bed with a gigantic smile on her face. He's awake! About time. "Hi," she said brightly. "Just a second." She deftly spread the folded table cloth over the chair seat and then placed the platter on top of it. "There," she said and ruffled the fur on Cringer's head. Almost instantly, the big cat was whisker-deep in marinated sea bass. "Now we won't get in trouble for staining the furniture."

Adam peered at her, perplexed. "Why?" he asked, looking at the chair.

"Well, he's not exactly neat, Adam," Teela said reasonably. Cringer looked askance at her, but he didn't stop eating. She walked around the bed and hunkered down in the armchair the queen had previously occupied. As she settled into it, a waft of Marlena's perfume greeted her nose. Nice.

Adam turned his head heavily on the pillow, trying to keep her in view. He still looked baffled in an exhausted sort of way.

"No," he murmured disgustedly. More words came, one slowly following after the other. "Not the... cloth. Why... the... chair?"

"Oh. Oh, sorry," Teela said leaning forward to rest her elbows on the edge of the high bed. "Ummm, Cringer doesn't want to get off the bed," she explained. Alarm flared in Adam's eyes.

"Hurt?" he asked, his voice trembling, his tone anxious. She shook her head emphatically.

"No, no. He's fine. He just doesn't want to leave you is all." _Not that he ever really does want to leave you._

Adam smiled tiredly. "Oh." His eyes closed. Thinking he'd drifted back off to sleep, Teela shoved her long, fiery hair out of the way and leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. Minutes later – though his eyelids remained lowered – he spoke. "Teela?"

"Yes, Adam," she said, fiddling with the end of her braid.

"Where's... Father?"

"Yours or mine?" she asked automatically, then she shook her head in exasperation. "Never mind. Silly question. It doesn't really matter since they're in the same place. They left for the Ice Mountains while you were asleep." Adam grimaced, eyes squeezed tightly shut and turned his face away from her. Teela was struck by the horrible notion that he was crying or at least on the verge. Her suspicions were confirmed when Cringer abruptly circled around to face the prince and began licking his cheek. Adam's nose twitched.

"Uck," he complained. "Fish." Cringer stopped licking and began to nuzzle him, knocking his head about on the pillow. Adam laughed breathlessly and stopped looking like he was going to cry. His eyes were still very glassy, though.

"Hey," she reassured him, leaning forward and taking hold of his hand. "It's ok. They'll be fine. This is my father we're talking about. He survived being swallowed by a fish. Twice. They'll be back in no time." Adam looked back at her. She thought he tried to smile, but his lips just quivered. _I like it better when he's an obnoxious, spoiled... well, prince, I guess. This is no fun for anyone._ "Really, Adam. Don't overreact," she remonstrated. "Your mother's still here, and Cringer." She sighed and slumped back in the armchair, letting go of his hand.

Teela stared out the window for a moment, lost in thought. "You know," she finally said, not bothering to hold back a long, envious sigh. "You have a really great mother."

"I know."

"A good father, too."

"So... do you," he noted tiredly.

"Yes," she acknowledged. "I do." _The very best father. I just wish –_

"Teela?"

"Hmmm?"

"When... I d-die-"

"You're not going to die!" Teela shouted, green eyes glinting dangerously as she grabbed the arms of the chair and sat straight up.

Adam flinched and glared at her, aggravated. "Teela –"

"You're not dying, Adam. Just get that out of your head." Teela's fingers dug into the padded upholstery. _Who told him? Who?_

"Am s-so," he insisted, lower lip thrust out for all the world as if they were eight years old and trading barbed insults. She scowled back, getting into the correct frame of mind for a really good insult slinging match. But then, suddenly, his features smoothed out and he looked unbearably weary. "Am dying," he whispered weakly.

"Adam..." She could think of nothing else to say. It was just too painful. She grasped his hand and clasped it tightly between hers.

"My... parents... "

"Adam, listen –"

"No," he scowled at her. "You'd... t-take care... of... m-my p-parents?" he said. It was not really a question, but she answered nonetheless.

"You know I would," she replied, marveling that her voice didn't catch.

"Promise... m-me."

"Adam –"

"Promise!"

"I swear I'll take care of them." Her throat tightening, Teela fought to keep her voice even. "They're... like family."

"Th-thanks." He closed his eyes, taking deep, slow breaths. Teela took several deep breaths of her own. Her jaw clenched, and she cleared her throat as quietly as she could, not wanting Adam to hear her. Gaining control of herself, she reached out and gripped his chin firmly. Adam's eyes popped open; he blinked at her in shock. "Now you listen to me, your highness. If anything ever happens to you, I promise you that I will look after your mother and father. But – BUT! Right now, it's irrelevant because you are not – emphatically not – going to die. To even suggest it is an insult to your father and mine!"

He grinned impudently. It was, Teela was pleased to note, a genuine smile.

"Yes, Captain," he said gravely. "My... apologies." His eyes twinkled and he seemed almost like his usual self for a moment. Then, turning his head to the side, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him once more. _Stubborn, Teela thought. My father's right. The whole royal family is ridiculously stubborn._

* * *

Duncan was piloting the Pelius when they passed over the Vine Jungle and were swarmed by the Junarit. The incident was more an annoyance than a genuine difficulty, but it made him uneasy all the same. It reeked of Beastman, but Randor felt that he was being paranoid. The swarm hadn't done any real damage, after all.

The king now piloted the Pelius while Duncan, unable to sit still, checked their supplies yet again. _This is probably the tenth time that's been done, but at least this way we can get whatever we still need in Avion. As if Teela would forget to include something. I hope she's all right._ Finishing his inventory, he walked forward and took a seat beside his king.

"I want to check the wind walkers over when we get to Avion," Duncan said. The king nodded, but did not otherwise reply. Randor's hands were steady on the controls as his gaze scanned the skies before them. He seemed calm, as if this were just one more journey, one more diplomatic mission or scouting foray, as if... his son's life did not depend on their every action.

"Are you all right?" Duncan asked. "Really all right?"

For a moment, he thought the king might not answer. Then, "No," he said, "but I will be. Elder's willing, I will be." The Master sighed. He simply couldn't imagine what Randor must be feeling... or how he was managing to keep himself going.

"Duncan?"

"Yes, sire?" He glanced over at Randor and saw that his eyes were narrowed, as if focusing on something in the distance, something visible only to him.

"When we get back, I want you to do an evaluation of the structural soundness of the palace complex, including the grounds. Specifically, I want you to investigate the palace's ability to withstand earth tremors."

Duncan lowered his chin to his hand and considered what Randor was asking of him, and what he suspected the king's expectations for such a project to be. "Sire," he said after a moment, careful to keep his tone very neutral. "You do realize that the quake that caused the wall to collapse was not natural in origin."

Randor nodded without turning his gaze away from the skies before them. "I am well aware of that fact, Duncan." His tone was, if anything, as neutral as the Master's, but his old friend was not fooled.

_The king is under far too much stress right now. Perhaps this would be a good time for him to let a little of that steam escape. I wonder how far I can push him without making it too obvious._ "The escarpment upon which the palace is located is not prone to such earthquakes," he noted.

"That does not mean that it will never experience such a tremor again," Randor countered patiently, "only that it is unlikely. Besides, natural tremors are not all we have to be concerned about. It is regrettably all too likely that the palace will be subjected to such magical attacks again in the future. Precautions must be taken."

"Precautions?" Duncan asked, for all the world as if he was unsure what the word meant. "And what exactly, do you intend to do?"

The king took a deep breath as he adjusted the controls of the wind walker. "That depends wholly upon the results of your evaluation. At the least, many of the structures will need to be strengthened."

"Strengthened?" _Maybe Randor really doesn't understand what he's proposing!_ "Sire, what you're talking about will involve retrofitting the entire palace. This isn't just going to be bracing a few walls. It could mean we have to demolish significant portions of –"

"Calm yourself, Duncan," the king admonished gently. "I understand what may be required. Frankly, if we have to tear the entire palace down and rebuild it from scratch, then that is what we will do."

Duncan blinked and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're serious, aren't you?" He sighed. "We just finished rebuilding."

"I know," Randor agreed quietly. "But what... what happened to... to Adam... must never happen to anyone else."

Duncan flinched. _He's right. No matter what we have to do, we can't let something like this happen again._ "All right, sire. I'll look into it when we get back."

"Good. Oh, and Duncan?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Quit trying to annoy me. It isn't going to work."

"Randor, you're too tense, too tightly wound. You need to let off a little steam."

"Bah."

* * *

It was perhaps an hour later when Medic Jonis returned with food for Teela. She was amused, but unsurprised, to see that she was having marinated grilled sea bass for dinner. Turning an ironic expression on the medic, she found herself wondering why he was there. He set her plate of food on the table, doing a minor double take when he noticed the missing table cloth. He looked to Teela for an explanation and she tilted her head toward the chair and Cringer's licked-clean dinner platter. His eyes widened, but he did not comment. Instead, Jonis walked over to the bed and pet the tiger absently as he studied the sleeping prince. "His color looks good," he noted, then laughed as Cringer sniffed and licked his hand, perhaps hoping that some of the marinade from Teela's dinner had spilled over.

"How come you're delivering the food?" she asked.

Jonis sighed and the gaze of his chocolate brown eyes fell to the tiger. "They don't want any of the servants to see how ill Prince Adam really is," he admitted quietly.

"Hey, careful!" Teela whispered urgently. "He might hear you." She watched Adam for some response to their discussion, but he didn't stir.

"He already knows how sick he is, Captain," Jonis justified his comment. "It's not a problem if he hears me."

"It's callous." Teela's voice was like a blade. Pulling away from the medic's hands, Cringer looked back and forth between them. His fur began to rise on end and he growled softly, startling Jonis and Teela. The medic backed away and eyed the cat dubiously.

"It's the truth," Jonis defended himself, watching the tiger's reaction. Cringer's tail lashed ominously and the medic backed further away. Frowning he backed to the door. "Never mind," he said. "There's no point arguing with you. I've got to get on with my duties anyway."

"Fine." Teela watched him leave with growing annoyance. _No wonder Adam is so upset if they're telling him he looks too awful for the servants to even see him. I'm going to give Dorgan a piece of my mind, and Jonis better keep his mouth shut from now on._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Duncan stood beside the Pelius, studying the city of Avion spread before them like some sort of glinting, multi-layered sculpture. _They certainly don't waste any space here,_ he thought as his gaze went up, up, up until it finally came to rest on the highest aerie in his field of vision. The king and his party stood by the wind walkers awaiting the escort who would take them from Gateway, the glorified customs hall, to the home of Lord Stratos. The escort was not for their safety but rather for the safety of the populace. Nothing so large, coarse and dangerous as a wind walker could be allowed to fly the heavily trafficked skyways of Avion.

The party was not patient. Randor least of all, but there was nothing they could do but wait.

The trip to the city in the clouds had been, after the incident with the butterflies over the Vine Jungle, disturbingly uneventful. Even their passage through the Eye of Zarkane had presented no problems. Duncan feared that Skeletor and his minions, if not coming after the king, must then be planning attacks against Castle Grayskull, the Palace or both. To judge by the tension radiating from Randor, the king shared his concerns.

Duncan wanted to reassure his friend, but it seemed an unwise thing to attempt, since any reassurances he could offer would be blatantly false, and Randor could not but know it. _We give entirely too many hostages to fortune these days,_ he pondered. _Quests were easier to bear when we had no children and wives to leave behind. Not that I have a wife, but Randor does._

Duncan had been both discomfited and moved when the king and queen had made their poignant goodbyes in his presence. When Marlena had hugged him and instructed him to take care of himself as well as Randor, Duncan had been positively mortified. _The day she finds out that I've been lying to her for years is going to be one of the worst days of my life._ Duncan sighed slowly, dragging the exhalation out, clearing the only dead air he could clear. _Families are... inconvenient. So why don't I seem to be able to get by without one these days?_

"Something wrong, Man-At-Arms?" Mekanek asked.

"Just tired. You?"

"Bored," Mekanek replied instantly. "I wish we could just get on with it. This delay is, well, boring... and frustrating... and-"

"I know," said Duncan. "I'm worried too."

"Yeah," Mekanek agreed sadly. "That kid better be there when we get back."

"Not to mention the palace," Duncan added in what, to judge by Mekanek's expression, was not a heartening afterthought.

"Gee, Man-At-Arms," Mekanek said in his best impersonation of Adam squabbling with Teela. "You're such a comfort to have around. Why, without you here, I might be positively optimistic."

Duncan gave his long-necked comrade a raised-eyebrow stare and quipped, "I suppose you might even say I was a pain in the neck. Mightn't you?" Mekanek groaned and stomped away muttering about army sergeants and what they became when they got old and decrepit.

"Well," said Randor coming to stand beside him, "you distracted him very neatly."

"Thank you, Sire." Duncan replied deadpan. "I try to be of service... even if I am old and decrepit."

"If you are, so am I," Randor said, smiling in a self-deprecating fashion. "Great adventures are for the young, not old men like us..." The king's words trailed off and he stared in into the far distance seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Just when Duncan started to move away, to go remind Ram-Man of some of the finer points of etiquette in Avion, Randor spoke once more. "So, how old do you suppose He-Man really is?"

Jaw hanging open, Duncan stared in trepidation in the king. _This is not a conversational topic I want to explore!_ He closed his mouth with a snap.

Randor continued, apparently choosing to regard Duncan's silence as shared interest. "He is certainly a most responsible and heroic young man, and there is no doubt that physically he appears to be an adult. And yet..."

Of all times for Randor to get curious! _Why can't he just accept that He-Man was sent by the Elders to help Eternia and leave it alone? Why does he have to worry about everything? Silly question. Why else did the Elders choose him to be king? _

"At times I have surprised a certain expression on his face that, well, reminds me more of Adam or Teela than of a seasoned Warrior."

_Adam! He's getting far too close to the truth here. Far too close._ "I –" Duncan tried to interrupt, to get the king off this dangerous tangent but Randor just marched onward, oblivious to his friend's barely suppressed panic.

"I don't imagine you know how old he is, Duncan? Do you?" The king's cobalt eyes regarded him curiously.

"I –"

"You've certainly worked with him more often than any of the rest of us."

"Sire," Duncan barely managed to restrain himself from shouting, "how long have you been thinking about this?" And how suspicious are you?

"Oh, from time to time. You must admit, He-Man is a puzzle." The king watched his man-at-arms closely, disconcertingly intent on his friend's reaction.

_How many times can you lie to your king before it officially qualifies as treason?_ Duncan wondered in growing alarm. _I bet Stratos would know, and I have an uncomfortable feeling I've already crossed that line._ Duncan searched his conscience futilely for an answer that would neither involve lying to his king nor whetting the man's appetite. "Randor," he finally asked, "does he look like an adolescent?"

"No. However-"

"Does it matter to you how old he is?" The king opened his mouth to reply, closed it again and then tilted his head to the side, pondering the question. Duncan surged onward, trying to keep the momentum he'd finally stolen from his monarch. "If He-Man is twenty-five or eighty-five, does it matter? Does it really make any difference?"

"Perhaps... " Randor replied. "Perhaps it does. If he's a juvenile –" The king broke off his speculation as a shadow fell over both men. Their escort had arrived at last. The fellow had with him suitable transport, in the form of small float chairs, for landers traveling the skyways of Avion. "We shall continue this conversation at a later time," Randor stated as he stepped forward to greet their escort.

_Wonderful, _Duncan thought tiredly. _That's just was Prince Adam needs, to be healed in time for his father to realize he's He-Man. The Sorceress will not be pleased._

* * *

The party from Eternos made its way to the aerie that was Stratos' home with sufficient grace not to embarrass themselves overly much despite Ram-Man's mishap with his float chair and a wall. The wall, to Duncan immense relief, was still standing and their escort managed to catch Ram-Man long before he would have hit the valley floor beneath them. The escort, who turned out to be a cousin of Stratos' by the name of Cumelius, deposited them on the walkway round the aerie without the slightest hint of censure or amusement, but he departed suspiciously quickly.

Watching Cumelius go, his flight illuminated by amber rays of the setting sun, Randor said only, "Hopefully, descriptions of this incident will not reach Lord Stratos until after our departure. Our dear Avion sometimes shows a deplorable taste for low humor."

Duncan huffed, but did not otherwise respond. Randor was showing his own taste for "low" humor. Low humor indeed. Might as well call it high humor this far above the valley floor.

The party was almost to the entrance of Stratos' home, Mekanek craning his neck to look over the lip of the raised walkway while Ram-Man walked as far from each edge as he could manage, when a familiar figure streaked toward them. He was not alone. Beside him flew his sister Hawke, who ran the city while Stratos danced attendance upon the royal family in Eternos.

"My king!" Stratos called, soaring toward them, jets firing. "My King! I have found it! I have found the map to the Snow Gryphon's lair!" Duncan observed the Avion, still some distance away, in stunned amazement. _So quickly?_ Next to him, Randor tensed, preparing to run to the exuberant messenger. _Which would be a bad idea since most of the thoroughfares here consist of open sky._ Duncan laid a restraining hand on the king's arm.

"He'll come to us, Sire." Randor gave him the sardonic glance of someone who is being mothered and knows it, but he did not dart forward to meet Stratos as Duncan knew he must wish to do. Instead, the king of Eternia walked in a most decorous – frustratingly slow – manner in this, the home city of one of his most trusted vassals; the locals must needs be impressed with King Randor's dignity. _After all, even when his son is dying, a monarch should always maintain his poise. We'd better get out of here soon, Duncan thought uneasily. They may be impressed with stern, angry, determined Randor, but worried, dismayed, gloomy Randor is not likely to inspire confidence._

After a few relativisticly long seconds, Stratos and Hawke reached them. The winged warrior was so eager to share his auspicious tidings that, for once, he neglected to bow in the presence of his king. "Sire, I have it!" The Avion flourished a tasseled scroll before them and began to expostulate in frenzied manner. "When last I beheld the Snow Gryphon, my curiosity was enflamed, and I delved deeply into the lore of the creature. Unhappily, allusions to the Snow Gryphon were in no way abundant. For many months I scoured the ancient archives and histories of Avion. In the course of this voyage of discovery, I lit upon a reference to the abode of –"

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Ram-Man erupted. "What in the world are you talking about?!" he bellowed. Stratos' monologue ground to a screeching halt. Every being within one hundred meters, feathered or no, turned to gawp at their lord and the strange landers with which he kept company. A mortified silence reigned. Even Ram-Man seemed oppressed by the weight of the eyes upon them. Only Hawke laughed, turning her head aside so that her red hair nearly obscured her face.

At last it was Stratos, normally the most decorous of their group, who broke the embarrassed silence with a hearty chortle. "Come, come," he said. "Come to my home. Let me show you what I have unearthed."

"But what was he talking about?" Ram-Man protested piteously as the king walked off with Lord of Avion and his deputy.

"He's talking about the place where the Snow Gryphons live," said an exasperated Mekanek, who still looked as if he wished his head could retract all the way inside his chest. "It sounds like he's found it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 -- Why Me??**

Having completed her survey of the guard posts, Teela decided to pay a visit to Adam. The sun had been down for more than two hours by the time she finally made her way through the palace halls and toward the infirmary. As she passed the royal family's private wing, Teela was struck by inspiration and ducked into Adam's bed chamber. On his dresser she found the music box that she'd given him for his birthday five years earlier. Opening it, she discovered that all of the metal song discs were neatly stored inside. _Good,_ she thought as she lifted the large wooden box in her arms. _Healer Dorgan can hardly object to a little music therapy._

Pleased with herself, Teela hastened to the infirmary, eager to share her prize. She was unsurprised to find the queen already there, but she was surprised to find her seated at the room's small marble-topped table surrounded by precarious piles of court documents and scribbling madly. The queen looked up as she walked in.

"Oh, Teela, that's a marvelous idea," Marlena said, beaming. She gestured toward the bed where Adam lay dozing quietly while Cringer meticulously cleaned his tail. "Put it on the stand by the bed."

Teela nodded. Shifting an assortment of flowers and other get well gifts out of her way, she arranged the music box on the nightstand, selected a disc and set it playing. A soothing, tinkling melody filled the room. Adam was apparently too deeply asleep to notice, but his mother began to hum along. Off key. Smiling fondly at her Captain of the Guard, she returned to her paperwork.

Tired and just the tiniest bit bored, Teela pulled a chair up to the bed and proceeded to while away some time by giving Cringer a thorough petting. The tiger responded more enthusiastically than usual, writhing and rolling across the bed. _He must be missing Adam's expert ministrations._ Nonetheless, he seemed to be at least mildly satisfied with her substitute attentions. When Cringer twisted over onto his back, so as to provide her with access to his belly, Adam stirred and stretched tiredly. Bleary eyed, he looked up at her. She smiled and gave him a little wave of her fingers while her other hand began to scratch the cat's stomach. He was hardly more than half awake, but he must have heard the still playing music box for he looked over at it, smiled contentedly and went back to sleep. Teela sighed. _Guess I won't be getting any good conversation out of him tonight. _

Distracted by Adam's brief return to consciousness, Cringer rolled back onto his feet and padded up to the head of the bed. Lying down beside Adam's shoulder, he rested his large head on the prince's chest. _Well I guess I know when I'm not wanted. _

Teela stood, rolled her neck and took a leisurely stroll around the room. It wasn't very satisfying. She changed the disc in the music box. She fiddled with the flower arrangements that dotted the room. She re-filled Cringer's water bowl. She stared out the window. She stared at the window. She stared at the window frame. She paced. _I should have gone with them. I should be doing something. I should –_

"Teela! For the Ancients' sake, find something productive to do!" the queen demanded, slapping her pen down on the table and spattering small drops of ink across her blotter. "Or at least something less fidgety. You're driving me mad!"

She gaped at Marlena in shock. _She yelled. She never yells._ Teela bit her lip and began to tug on her braid.

"Oh, for…" the queen bit off whatever she'd been about to say and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly. "All right. Quit squirming and come over here and sit by me. You can tell me how the new security measures are going while I finish this."

"Yes, you highness," Teela agreed sheepishly. Curious, she wandered over and stood behind Marlena. Glancing over the queen's shoulder, Teela realized that she was writing a Confirmation of Succession. _Surely Adam was named King Randor's official heir years ago. Why in the world is she doing this now? _Frowning, she walked around and lowered herself into a chair. "Queen Marlena?" she asked as she picked up a treatise on dynastic succession and stared at it in bafflement.

"Yes?" Marlena responded without looking up.

Teela gestured at the large stacks of books, scrolls and other documents. "What are all of these for, your highness?"

"Precedents," the queen sighed.

"Precedents for what?" Teela set the treatise down and picked up another document that turned out to be a copy of the proclamation which announced Captain's Randor's appointment as King of Eternia by the Council of Elders. She noted that it had been hastily scribbled in her father's handwriting. "Are you writing up Adam's Confirmation of Succession?"

"No, not Adam's."

"But then whose?"

"Actually," the queen said, raising her face from the document and gazing into her eyes, "it's the Confirmation of Succession for Adam's heir."

"His what?" Teela asked weakly.

"His heir," she repeated matter-of-factly. "We – "

"But he doesn't have any children!" she blurted, causing the queen's eyes to widen. "I mean, how…?" she trailed off, uncertain what she was asking or why. Marlena studied her for a moment. Then, smiling, she reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of Teea's face. "You're talking about replacing him," she finally protested.

"Teela, this doesn't mean I'm giving up," the queen defended her actions. "I'm merely taking sensible precautions. If Adam—"

"He's not going to die! People can't keep telling him that," Teela complained. "Adam's going to give up."

Marlena sat up very straight, jaw set and eyes flashing dangerously. "Who, Teela? Who's been telling my son that he's going to die?"

She shrugged and stared at her hands in her lap. "I'm not sure," she said hesitantly, "but I know he's heard things. He, well, he talked to me about it."

"I see," the queen said, her tone alarmingly neutral.

When she didn't say anything else, Teela looked up and saw her angrily brushing away tears with a small square of linen. _Gee, Teela, that's just great. Adam will be thrilled to know you made his mother cry. _"I'm sorry, I—"

The queen waved away her apology as she tucked the handkerchief back into the folds of her dress. "No, it's not your fault. Now, listen to me, Teela," Marlena said, her voice very firm. "I agree with you; Adam is not going to die. I promise you I will speak with Dorgan, and you can be sure that he will see to it that this doesn't happen again."

"Yes, your highness."

"As for the Confirmation of Succession," she continued, "while I admit that Adam's injury is what brought it to my mind, that's not why I'm doing this."

"But, then why?"

The queen sighed, adjusted the point on her ink pen and pulled a blank piece of parchment out of one of the piles. "Randor and I discussed this years ago," she explained. "We just never found the time to make it official. So, that's why I'm stuck staring at this mound of precedents and trying to word the confirmation in the firmest and most unobjectionable way."

"Oh," Teela said quietly. Then, curiosity returning along with her equilibrium, Teela leaned over to scan the first half of the document. "Who is Adam's heir?" she asked, puzzled by the legal jargon.

Marlena grinned. "I'm almost surprised that you don't know," she said. "But, then, I suppose Man-At-Arms would hardly be likely to speak of it. He finds it an uncomfortable topic."

"Is it any wonder?" Teela asked feelingly. "Having a ruler that wasn't King Randor or Adam would have to mean that he messed up pretty badly."

"I suppose it's true that he would feel that way," Marlena agreed, "but there's more to it than that. You see, Man-At-Arms is Adam's heir."

Teela blinked. "What?"

"He's Adam's heir," the queen said, carefully enunciating each word. "If something were to happen to Randor and Adam, your father would become the next king."

"What!" Teela felt like shrieking but all that came out was a squeak. "Does Adam know?"

"Of course." Marlena nodded. "We discussed it with him after he was confirmed as Randor's heir by the People's Council and the Lords' Council."

"But that was eight years ago!" Teela stuttered breathlessly. "Why didn't he ever tell me?"

"He probably assumed you knew, dear," she replied reasonably. "It's not as if we've been keeping it a secret precisely. It was only right that Adam should know since Man-At-Arms has also been confirmed as his guardian and Regent of Eternia in the event of our deaths before he comes of age."

Teela took several deep, quick breaths and glanced over at the bed, glaring. "I wish he'd wake up and stay awake for five minutes," she muttered angrily. "Just five minutes."

Marlena laughed lightly, and shook her head as Teela turned her glare on her. "This is hardly the time to yell at him."

"But your highness, don't you see? I'm my father's heir!"

"That's what's bothering you," the queen said startled. Slowly, she began to fidget with her pen. "Actually, you are not his heir."

Teela throat constricted. _I'm not? But I thought… I thought…_ She looked away. "Oh."

"Oh dear, I've put my foot in my mouth, haven't I?" Marlena reached out and took her hand. "Teela, you are your father's heir in every normal way. The fact that you're adopted doesn't change that."

"But then why—"

"This isn't quite a normal matter of inheritance. A successor must be declared separately and officially from everything else. Randor could leave Adam the kingship but leave everything he owned to Ram-Man if he wished."

"Has my father declared a successor?" she asked, becoming fascinated by the intricacies of it all despite her anxiety.

"No, unfortunately not," Marlena scowled. "All he did do was write a document stating that you, specifically, were not to be his successor." Teela's brows knit and Marlena hurried on. "He did it to protect you. He said that you had other responsibilities and that you'd be utterly miserable if you became queen."

"Well, that's true," she admitted grudgingly.

"So, you don't want to be queen?"

"No," Teela answered firmly. "No, I definitely do not want to be queen." _What a truly horrid thought. Father was right; I am not queen material. Definitely, definitely not._

"Hmmm."

"Uh, no offense," Teela added, realizing that her statement could be taken as an insult.

"None taken," the queen assured her. Marlena's smile widened. "So, now that all that fuss is out of the way, why don't you help me out by finding which one of these books deals with the succession wars during the Borealian Dynasty in Avion."

Teela nodded assent and chose a book to start scanning. "So, who is my Father's heir if he hasn't declared one?" she asked. _It' not likely to be in this one. _She selected another book.

"I imagine it would fall to his nearest living relative besides you."

"Baron Gurickin," she exclaimed. "That courtier?" Gurickin was twice Teela's age, an excellent age for a king, but that was his only kingly quality. Pale-skinned from spending nearly all his time indoors, he was also as big around as he was tall. Since he was a good two meters in height that made his girth quite impressive. He was also one of the most timid men that she had ever met. _He could make Cringer look brave!_

"Yes, I believe so," the queen said, contemplating the suggestion. "It almost certainly would be him."

"That's appalling. He'd be a horrible king. Can you imagine him facing off against Skeletor, or the Bakers Guild for that matter?"

"Not really," she said, a queer look on her face. "What an image."

"As soon as they get back, Father is declaring an heir," Teela stated. "I'll make him do it if I have to sit on him."

Marlena laughed heartily. "Thank you, Teela. I think that would be a very good idea."

_Baron Gurickin… Elders help us all._

* * *

It was a weary but very excited group of men – and Hawk – who sat around the dining table that evening. Stratos had not actually found a map, but what he did uncover was nearly as good. _Maybe even better,_ Duncan thought, marveling at their good fortune. The journals of Arora, an Avion explorer from the time of Captain Miro's infancy, described her voyages across Eternia, her journeys through the Fertile Plains, the Sands of Fire… the Ice Mountains. Arora was, by choice, a solitary soul, living and wandering alone across their world. Over the long years, her travels brought her into contact with many races, many creatures. Even, it appeared, Snow Gryphons. Why few knew of this remarkable meeting was easy enough to understand given the reclusive nature of explorer herself. Living, she had confided in no one. Dead, she confided only in those hardy souls determined enough to wade through the tens of thousands of pages of narrative she left behind. Her journals, written in the first person and addressed to these hypothetical future scholars, described in great depth every step of her journeys.

Duncan quickly scanned through the copy of volume seven which Stratos had brought with him from the Great Library of Avion, paying special attention to pages dealing with Snow Gryphons. In words, Arora plotted out the way. _It's a pity she wasn't inclined to drawing maps,_ Duncan mused as he read a description of the camp that Arora made beside a hot spring in a system of underground caverns two days before she saw her first Snow Gryphon.

_These pages are like a gift from the Elders. Still, Arora met the Snow Gryphons when Captain Miro was a mere boy,_ Duncan cautioned himself_. There's no telling what might have changed since then. And yet… If only her journals are accurate, and if only the Snow Gryphons haven't changed their habits, and if only the geological features mentioned are still visible, then maybe, just maybe, finding the Snow Gryphons will be as easy as walking down on open road. If only—_

"A truly amazing woman," Stratos said, offering praise where he clearly felt it was due. "With the assistance of the lady's journals, the difficulty of our search should be greatly lessened."

"Three days," Randor intoned, his voice husky with emotion, his eyes bright with hope. "Only two day's journey by wind walker to the peaks where the Snow Gryphons live. It is… almost too good to be believed."

"Uh… but will they still be there?" Ram-Man asked, scratching his head plate. "I mean, don't some birds migrate and stuff – Owww!" Ram-Man turned an outraged glare on his old friend and companion. "Mek! What'd you do that for? I just asked if – Owww!" Mekanek returned the glare as the other Master slowly shifted his chair further along the table and, theoretically, out of range. Duncan favored them both with a withering frown, the kind that left Adam and Teela quaking and babbling explanations for things he didn't even know they'd done. The combined weight of his frown, Randor's kingly scowl and Stratos' lofty glower subdued the squabblers.

"Sorry," they muttered in unison.

Over a dinner that none of them really tasted, the party discussed the descriptions of the journey. Randor was chafing at the bit, eager to continue their journey, but the wooly fog for which the Mystic Mountains was known had crept in just minutes after sunset. Duncan managed to persuade the king that it would be wise for the party to delay its departure until sunrise when the fog would begin to dissolve. The others readily agreed, save Stratos who claimed that he could fly through a hundred-year blizzard and never lose his way. Duncan took the Avion aside to try and talk some sense into him.

"But, Man-At-Arms," he implored, passion making his rich baritone tremble, "surely such night vapors as these are of no consequence when the Prince of Eternia's very life is at stake. Should we not persevere with all due haste? Adam's peril is considerable."

"That's all well and good, Stratos, but we need sleep," Duncan rejoined. "The king, especially, needs to rest. I don't think he's slept more than an hour or two in the last three days. This is going to be a difficult journey. If we allow Randor to exhaust himself unduly, then Eternia could lose its king as well as its prince."

"Still, it is troublesome to perch here and do nothing when at last we have a wind to follow. The prince… he is often in my thoughts. He and his lady mother."

"No one wants to see Prince Adam well again more than I, but above all things we must be rational," Duncan cautioned. "I won't throw away the king's life, or anyone else's for that matter, to save Adam. He… wouldn't want that."

Stratos eyed Duncan perplexedly and then stared into the distance over his shoulder. When he spoke, his words were studied and neutral. "I would not have expected such a sentiment from you, Man-At-Arms. I thought you cared for the boy, not as a vassal for his lord's heir, but almost as a son."

_I do,_ Duncan thought desolately. _I do. _But he could not say that to Stratos. "I won't waste lives," he repeated. The Avion nodded, a gesture of understanding if not agreement.

"Sleep you well, then," he said as he left to seek his own couch.

* * *

Teela was patrolling the ramparts, checking up the alertness and general fitness of the sentries on duty there as the sun sank beyond the Fertile Plains. _Only ten more days to go,_ she reflected in a kind of weary acceptance of what she could not change. _Bah. Maybe they'll get back and fix him earlier than we planned for, then we could throw a big party for the twelfth sunset. _She sighed. _And maybe Skeletor will volunteer for the palace fire brigade._

The moons were low in the sky that night, the larger looking almost like the base of some distant mountain as it rested low on the horizon. Even with the setting of the sun, it was still quite hot. Fortunately, a mild summer breeze coming off the plains cooled things down just enough for the heat to be pleasant rather than oppressive. With the moons so large in the heavens, and the evening so bright as a consequence, conditions were perfect for a midnight swim. Regrettably, Teela's swimming partner was currently bedridden and seriously ill.

It would have eased her frustrations enormously to vent her spleen out on some hapless, wretched guard, but every one she scrutinized seemed competent and vigilant. She was only a quarter finished with her inspection when her comlink chimed. "Teela here." The voice that issued back at her was startling. Perkins, the king's aide, sounded, well, not cross, precisely. _There's an odd note in his voice._

"Captain?"

"Yes.

"A Qadian… envoy is here. Queen Marlena requests your immediate presence in the king's office."

_An envoy? This late in the day? _Teela felt her eyebrows climbing as the meaning of the strange tenor of Perkins's voice finally clicked into place. _He's laughing about something…_ Carefully clearing her throat before she spoke, she said, "I'll be right there. Teela out." She slipped her comlink back onto her belt as the nearest sentry tried desperately to pretend as if he hadn't just been eavesdropping on her call. Teela gave him a withering glare as she walked hurriedly past, anxious to know what had the usually tetchy aide so uncharacteristically amused.

Without running, since that might alarm the rather skittish courtiers, it took Teela almost ten minutes to reach the king's office. Teela knocked politely and someone opened the door from the inside for her. When she entered, she couldn't believe her eyes. Marlena, discernable only by her roughly queen-shaped form, was buried under a fluffy shell of … _kittens! _Teela couldn't begin to guess how many of them there were because they never stopped moving. They seemed, universally, to have large eyes and twitching tails, though their different coats gave the queen a decidedly mottled appearance. The volume of their combined chatter gave the room the air of a tavern on payday. Still, they were far too vocal to be ordinary kittens, they sounded more like… _It can't be!_

Squinting her eyes against the ruckus, Teela turned toward Perkins' desk, prepared to demand an explanation. She came, instead, face-to-chest with King Carnivus of Qadia. _Eep!_ In a lighter moment, she had once described the Qadian patriarch as merely a furry version of King Randor. For one dizzyingly horrifying instant, she found herself wondering if he could have somehow heard of her comment. Well more than two meters in height, broad as Ram-Man in the shoulders and wearing a cape that matched the Eternian king's for flair and sweep, he was an extremely imposing figure.

She took a step back so she could speak to something other than his sternum and let out another internal – _eep! – _when she noticed the host of Qadian warriors ranged behind their leader. Well, maybe ten large males didn't actually qualify as a host, but this didn't seem like the moment to pursue etymology.

Mastering her desire to strangle Perkins for not warning her about this, Teela bowed. "Welcome to the Palace of Eternos, your majesty," she said, determined to make a better showing than she had thus far. _How may I serve you? No, no, no – that's not what to say to him. That's what I should be saying to Marlena. But how do I ask her that while she's covered in Qadian toddlers? _She blinked at Carnivus, dumbfounded.

"Thank you, Captain Teela." Carnivus did something gymnastic with his ears and one of the male warriors behind him stepped out of formation and walked over to the spot where the queen sat ensconced in kittens. He opened his mouth, presumably made some sound, though Teela couldn't hear it, and silence fell like mana from heaven.

One by one, the small felines loosened their holds on Marlena, slipping from her lap until they formed a furry puddle near her feet. Their whiskers and tails still twitched, and Teela could have sworn she heard at least one of them purring, but they were otherwise silent and still. _A respectful and attentive puddle,_ Teela thought watched them with mixed feelings of warmth and dread. They were almost revoltingly cute en masse, but she had the beginnings of a horrible premonition.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to her queen's side. "Your highness, you wished to see me." Marlena grinned serenely up at her.

"Yes, thank you for coming so promptly. These fine warriors," she gestured to the assorted mob, "are a levy of the finest Qadian troops, sent here as part of the treaty between our two nations." The queen paused to favor said company with a look that was at once regal and welcoming. "We are very pleased and honored to have them here. However, their… composition does present something of a challenge."

Teela cast a rapid and covert glance at the Qadians through her lashes and was startled to discover that fully half of them were female. The queen, meanwhile, had continued speaking as though her captain's attention had never wavered. "I would like you to review the special arrangements that Perkins has devised for their temporary quartering while more appropriate housing is arranged."

Teela blinked, blinked again and then allowed her gaze to settle on the kittens. Marlena followed her glance, and several of the little balls of fluff began to purr the instant they noticed the queen noticing them. Fighting the feeling that this was all some sort of bizarre dream, she inclined her head toward the children. "Will the – " _Oh my Elders! What do I call them? _" – little ones be quartered with them?" Her voice broke slightly and she turned it into a cough that sounded horribly false to her own ears. "It will matter in whatever decisions we make."

To her surprise, it was Carnivus who answered her, his deep voice vibrating with barely suppressed mirth. "We do not send babes into battle with their sires and dams, Captain. These younglings are a separate matter between Queen Marlena and I. You need not concern yourself with them."

Unaccountably disappointed – _I'm not getting saddled with looking after them? _– Teela nodded and walked over to the spot in the corner where Perkins sat, perusing what looked to be a sheaf of duty rosters. _So why are they here? _She shook her head and settled down to business. _Later. The queen will tell me later. Elders give me patience. Now, please._

* * *

Duncan knew that they should take any opportunity for sleep that they could get. When the planning party broke up he urged the others, including Randor, to make the most of the three hours left until sunrise. As for following his own advice, after being woken by two successive nightmares he decided he'd feel more rested without sleep. Even with a scalding cup of chai in his hands, it was hard to shake off the image of Skeletor standing over Adam's sickbed, his havoc staff raised over his head, ready to come smashing down on the sleeping boy. _Elders, don't let this be prophetic,_ he prayed. _If Randor's been having dreams like this, I don't know how he's holding it together._

Duncan, chai in hand, decided to clear his head with a stroll on the raised walkways outside the aerie. He crept quietly to the door and stepped out into the cool night air. Distant lanterns and stars, like a multitude of fireflies, lit the sleeping city, hazy halos of light in the omnipresent fog. Closer to hand, lanterns lit Duncan's path, casting swinging shadows in the light breeze that played through the skyways, creating eddies in the mist. He had gone considerably less than a dozen meters when he found Randor sitting under such a lantern, knees drawn up to his chest, white fur cloak wrapped tightly around him. With a resigned sigh, Duncan sank down next to his king and silently offered him the chai. Randor snorted and took the warm cup in hand.

"So, you could not sleep either?" he said, taking a sip of the proffered chai. Duncan, knowing it for the rhetorical question it was, did not answer. Instead, he shifted position to get a better look at the object that the king was holding in his other hand. A shaft of lantern light fell briefly on it and Duncan felt his breath catch in his throat. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Randor held the small framed miniature of Adam up to the swinging light.

"That's… an amazing likeness," Duncan finally managed to say as he squinted at the image of a boy who was considerably younger than the prince they'd left behind. This boy was standing on the edge of a gushing fountain, an arm raised in enthusiastic greeting. _He has to be nine, ten at the most in that picture. You can still see the baby fat, and… good heavens, is that a scab on his chin? Surely, he didn't pose like that! I wouldn't have thought the queen would have allowed it._ The two men peered at the miniature in silence for some while, each caught up in their own memories of the young prince. "Who painted it?" Duncan asked at last. "I've never seen a portrait so life-like."

Randor grinned. "No one painted it," he explained. "Orko made it for me not long after he saved Adam from those swamp hoppers. Watch." The king carefully balanced the miniature on his knee in a shaft of soft light and then tapped the bottom of the gilded frame with two fingers. "Denovo," he commanded. Duncan gasped in dismay as the rich colors of the portrait blurred and melted, folding in on themselves. "No, no," Randor reassured him. "It's supposed to do this." The colors sank from view leaving only a white canvas. Then, surprisingly quickly, they bubbled back up through the canvas forming a new image. Duncan marveled at the beautiful ingenuity of it.

"Why that's Adam's sixteenth birthday," he exclaimed. Then, laughing, "His hair really was a mess wasn't it?" Randor grinned and nodded. The king ran his fingertips over the – _dry?_ – canvas.

"There are several others," he said. "Orko adds them for me periodically. I can cycle through all of them whenever I wish." The king tapped the frame once more, spoke the command and a fresh image materialized; Adam was stretched out on a sunny patch of grass while an infantile Cringer curled up on his stomach.

"I wonder if Orko could make something like this for me," Duncan mused. "One of Teela, I mean. Do you suppose he could add pictures of things that happened in the past?" Randor looked thoughtful.

"I do not see why he could not," Randor replied, smiling in perfect understanding. "Now that you mention it, I wonder if he actually has to have been there in order to make the image appear. Perhaps he could even add pictures of 'Prince Adam the infant.' I think I should like to have one of Marlena holding him… when he was still small enough for her to lift."

"Oh, of course, your highness!" Orko announced brightly. "That would be easy."

Both men jumped and whirled into battle positions before they realized the identity of the intruder. Duncan, his body between Orko and Randor, stopped his hand a mere inch from the jester's throat. Then from the corner of his eye, he saw Randor half throw himself off the walkway, his arms desperately reaching for something. "The miniature!" he cried. The Trollan forgotten, Duncan dove after his friend.

"Oops!" The jester popped out of view just as Duncan got a grip on Randor's cloak and hauled him away from the edge. The king looked devastated. Gasping, Duncan could think of nothing to say before Orko reappeared before them, chai in one hand and the miniature in the other. Randor snatched the small frame from the Trollan's hand. His mouth opened and closed, fish-like, but no words emerged. Finally, shaking his head and groaning, the king stalked back to Stratos' dwelling.

They watched him go in strained silence. When he at last disappeared from view, Duncan spun around and grabbed the front of the little Trollan's red robe. "Orko!" he growled. "What are you doing here?"

The jester looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. "I want to help," he defended himself. Duncan ground his teeth. _It won't do any good if I beat his head against the wall. _Grind. _It won't do any good if I beat my head against the wall. _Grind.

"Why me?" he moaned. "Why me?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 -- The Huddle**

"Your Highness," Teela addressed the queen. Marlena looked up from bathing the sleeping prince's face but her hands never stopped working.

"Yes, Teela?" she asked as she gently mopped Adam's eyes and fever-bright cheeks.

"I've had another message from my father. Orko is with them. Apparently, he stowed away in the Andrinor," Teela said irritably_. If he messed up any of the supplies, I'll—_

"Well, that's a great relief," Marlena sighed. "I was getting worried about him. Besides, it's good to know that he's there to look after Randor and Man-At-Arms." Smiling tiredly, the queen continued with her task.

Buzz-Off had made a hurried trip to Castle Grayskull that morning to consult the Sorceress. Unfortunately, she'd confirmed the healers' fears and advised against medicating the prince. Upon hearing this, Adam had haughtily declared that he didn't want any of the healers' odious potions. He'd then added that he wasn't in pain anyway, so they could all just leave him alone and let him rest. When he was asleep, as now, his body told a different story. Not fooled, the medics and the queen were doing what they could to ease his suffering without drugs.

_She's wearing herself out like this, _Teela realized as she watched the queen wring out a new cloth. _It's only been four days since the attack, but she looks like she's lost weight._ Teela scowled internally and sauntered casually over to the bed. Cringer eyed her for a moment, yawned and then leaned down and began to lick Adam's hand_. He's not going to have any skin left if this goes on very long._ Cringer yawned again – _rather pointedly_ – and the queen was forced to stifle a yawn of her own in response.

"Your highness—"

"Really, Teela," the queen interrupted, sounding just a touch piqued. "You called me Aunt Marlena for years. Just because you're the Captain of the Guard now doesn't mean you have to be so formal in private."

"Uh… oh. Well, um, Aunt Marlena, couldn't a medic do that?" Teela hastened on when the queen opened her mouth, a protest on her lips. "I mean, you have to be tired and it won't make Adam happy if you exhaust yourself and get sick or something."

Marlena's shoulders drooped. "I know," she said, "but I hate to leave him alone with only the medics and healers…" Cringer growled quietly in protest of this statement, and the queen laughed softly. "Yes, Cringer," she said, patting him on the head. "I know you're here, but you can't hold a cloth or feed him." Affronted, the great cat turned his back on her and began to tenderly lick Adam's jaw with air of a mama cat cleaning a wayward kitten. "Oh dear," Marlena said pitifully. "I must be disoriented if I'm offending Cringer."

Teela giggled, stifled it, and then giggled some more at the smile her laughter brought to Marlena's face. When the queen started to wring out the cloth once more, Teela took it from her and blithely shoved her out of the way. "I'll do it," she informed her as she slapped the still dripping cloth to Adam's forehead. "Go rest… please."

"Yeah, Mom," Adam murmured between cracked lips.

_When did he wake up? The little twerp's probably been eavesdropping on us._

"Go… get… some… sleep. Stubborn."

Teela shifted uneasily on the edge of the bed. _Does he mean she's stubborn or is he talking about me? Or maybe, _she thought,_ he's talking about himself. Hah. Better not lose the advantage. _

"You heard him, Aunt Marlena."

"Very well, I know when I'm beaten." The queen leaned down, applied some balm to Adam's dry lips and then kissed his damp brow. Then, a mischievous look in her eyes, she kissed Teela's.

"Hey!" Teela complained as the queen made a timely exit. "I'm not six!" An odd sound drew her attention back to the bed and she realized that Adam was laughing. Unfortunately, it sounded more like a wheeze.

"You all right?" she asked. Adam nodded infinitesimally.

"Thanks," he whispered. "C-couldn't… make… her—"

"Don't tire yourself out," Teela ordered, wringing the cloth more carefully this time and laying it lightly on his collar bone. She wrung a second cloth and began to gently mop his face. _He can barely keep his eyes open,_ Teela noticed. _Why doesn't he sleep?_ Opening dry lips, Adam began to mouth words and Teela leaned to hear him.

"You… d-don't… have… t-to…"

"Don't be an idiot," Teela snapped, straightening back up. Then, after a moment, more gently, "I don't mind." Adam gave her as much of a glower as he could manage and closed his eyes. Teela sighed. _It's a good thing none of the medics are young girls,_ she thought cynically. _This stoic, wounded soldier act would go over big time, and he's already conceited enough._

Teela's hands were dried out and aching from all the water by the time Adam's fever started to break. Through it all he hardly moved, and she was struck by just how sick he must be to put up with being ministered to by her_. Letting his mother do this is something else entirely._ When Adam's slow, steady breathing assured her that he was asleep and feeling at least a little better, she decided to get up and walk around for a while. Teela didn't realize just how long she'd been sitting until she tried to stand and discovered that her rear end was asleep. _Swell_, she thought. _I can just imagine me trying to fend off an attack right now._ Humphing, she began to stretch.

_Bah. I forgot to ask her about the kittens._

* * *

The next morning the expedition set out for the Ice Mountains. They passed over Andrenos barely two hours after departing Avion, but they had no time to stop. Luckily, most of the geological markers mentioned in Arora's journal for the first leg of their journey appeared on the maps of the Mystic Mountains.

The wind walkers flew on, heading toward their goal for that day, a pillar of stone shaped like a war hammer. Their literary guide had camped beneath that marker, and all her further instructions depended upon starting from that point. _The challenge will be differentiating it from all the other rock formations in that area,_ Duncan reflected. _There's no way to be certain, from Arora's description, how high the peak was or which direction she saw it from. Worse, it might have been eroded by time and no longer resemble a hammer. Or the original resemblance might have been due more to shadows and snow than the pillar's actual physical shape. Or… Stop it, Duncan! Just stop it._

The Master sat in the co-pilot's seat of the Pelius, his king beside him, Orko hovering in between them. Now that they had, as they all felt, at last begun the true search for the Snow Gryphons, Randor had changed. A sort of preternatural calm had come over him. He would probably have called it grim determination. Stratos would almost certainly have called it noble purpose. Duncan figured it was closer to a kind of numb resignation. _We've chosen our course, and there's no turning back. What will be, will be_. _Just please, Elders if you're listening, let it be what we want. Let him live. Let them both live. Cringer too. Please…._

"Oh, sure. He-Man has parents. I knew that!" Orko said cheerfully.

"Really?" Randor replied, sounding stunned. "Did he tell you about them?"

"Yup!" An expectant silence followed this declaration. Then, "Well, not exactly."

"Then how is it that you know of—"

Duncan sat up straight, realizing abruptly that he had become far too lost in his own reverie and had dozed off.

"What was that?!" he demanded.

"Ah, hello, Duncan," Randor greeted his return to consciousness.

"Hi, Man-At-Arms," Orko chirped. "We were just talking about He-Man."

"Were you?" _Parents? Had Orko mentioned parents? _Duncan desperately, and rapidly, searched his mind for a way to get the little jester off the subject before he revealed anything – or worse, everything! _Why couldn't he just stay home! _"Orko," he said at last in a surprisingly calm voice, "have you slept yet?"

"Ummm…"

Duncan put on his best stern, I'm a parent, don't mess with me, look. "That's what I thought. I think it's time you got some sleep."

"Oh, but, Man-At-Arms, I'm not at all sleepy," the Trollan objected. "Really!"

"No arguments, Orko."

"But—"

"No, Orko," the king interjected. "Man-At-Arms is correct. It was selfish of me to keep you talking with me all this time. Go and get some sleep, now." The jester looked like he wanted to protest, but he clearly thought better of it when he took a close look at both their faces.

"Yes, your highness," he said. He sighed as he floated to the back of the ship and found a place to lie down. Randor started to speak, but Duncan gestured for him to remain silent. The king glanced back over his shoulder at Orko and, understanding his advisor's reasoning, he nodded.

Minutes passed.

When the sound of the jester's snoring reached them, they exchanged an amused glance.

"So. Was he regaling you with tales of He-Man's exploits or just bad jokes?"

"He-Man," the king said as he banked the wind walker to the west. "He seems to be all that Orko speaks of these days."

"Huh."

"You, on the other hand, seldom talk of Eternia's champion. Why is that?"

"Nothing significant, sire," Duncan, said, hoping to allay suspicion. "I'm not the talkative sort."

"I am well aware of that fact, old friend," Randor answered. "When you made that speech upon my coronation, well, I had never before heard you use that many words at once."

Duncan did not respond with words, merely tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at his king. Randor smiled slightly, clearing enjoying his reaction. "So, Duncan," he said, eyeing him with mild malice, "speaking of He-Man—"

"Yes, sire," he replied, resigned to having the conversation he'd been avoiding for months. _Years, really. Ever since I knew that Adam— Blast! But I've got to make sure that Orko hasn't told him anything he's not supposed to know. Adam is going to be furious._

"We have established that you… do not… know how old He-Man is. Do you know anything of his parentage?"

_This isn't quite what I had in mind! _"Parentage? Ummm, what did Orko tell you?"

"Not much, but you know what he can be like. It is sometimes very difficult to get him to answer a straightforward query."

"True."

"So, what do you know?" the king asked, waving one hand in an encouraging manner.

"About his parents?" _Stall. Stall. Just stall._

"Yes, Duncan," Randor said, exasperation evident in his voice. "About He-Man's parents."

At that moment, the scenery spread before them was universally dull and undiverting. _No help there._ "Well… he's never really talked about them," he hedged.

"And?"

"What brings this up?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. _What on Eternia did I do to deserve this sudden spate of inquisitiveness?_

"Adam," Randor said simply.

"Adam?!" The Master was half out of his seat and rising to his feet before he even consciously realized he'd begun to move. _Ohhhhhh…_

"Yes, Adam," the king repeated, eyeing him in puzzlement. Then, the scorn writ plainly upon his face, he added, "Did I stutter? Do you see Skeletor hiding in a bush down there somewhere?"

"No, I just – it seems like an odd association to make." With as much dignity as he could muster, Duncan returned to his seat, fighting an internal battle not to begin screaming and running in circles. _If I ever really let go…_

"It seems to be the basis for all of my associations lately," Randor noted with a certain amount of self-directed irony.

"Ummm…"

"It really is very simple, Duncan. I just find myself wondering if He-Man's parents worry for him as much as I worry for my son." _They do. Believe me, they do. _"If so," Randor continued, "they must sleep uneasily. The defender of Eternia does not lead a life free of danger, by far."

Duncan swallowed. _How to address this? It's not a question to be brushed aside. _"I would imagine," he said, speaking very slowly and softly, "that they're very proud of him."

"Oh. Naturally," the king said in quick agreement. "Anyone would be, of such a son. He is a great hero, perhaps the greatest who has ever lived, how could his parents not but be proud of him?" Randor paused and frowned into the distance.

"Sire?"

The king sighed. "It troubles me to think of them, Duncan. How often have I sent him into danger never considering how they would feel if he were hurt or… or, Elders forefend, killed? He is not even oath-sworn to me, and I have risked his life numerous times."

"Always with good cause," Duncan interjected firmly.

"Oh, yes," the king nodded. "Always with good cause. At least, if he were oath-sworn to me, then I would have a specific relationship with him and with his family. It would then be my obligation, and my privilege, to care for his parents if something happened to him in my service."

"Randor…" he said, at loss how to address this without revealing the truth.

"I don't even know who they are!" he complained feelingly, frustration ringing in his voice. "How can I help them, treat them as they deserve, as his service merits, if I don't even know who they are?"

"Randor, I don't think He-Man expects anything like what you're talking about." Duncan said, taken aback by the king's strong feelings on this issue. "I'm sure he'd be moved by your concern, but—"

"But you are not going to tell me his history," Randor said, not even trying to disguise the bitterness in his words. "I know you know, Duncan. I can see it in your eyes." He took a deep breath, the resentment ebbing away. "Still, if He-Man has pledged you to secrecy, I understand why you would be reluctant to break that confidence."

"Randor, think about it," Duncan urged. "Think what Skeletor would do if he found out who He-Man's parents are. Consider how that knowledge could harm Eternia's champion."

"I have," he retorted. "What concerns me is the possibility that Skeletor might learn of He-Man's past before I do. That… does not bear thinking about."

Duncan blanched. "No," he said. "It doesn't." _Randor, is there anyone you don't worry about constantly? It's amazing you don't have ulcers._

"I do not know where He-Man resides. For all I do know, he could be his parents' only source of support. If he were to… this is an untenable position to be in."

Duncan frowned. _Blast. This isn't simple curiosity; he's genuinely worried about the boy and his family. Fabulous. I can't have him re-thinking his decisions regarding He-Man because he's concerned for his parents. What to say? What to say? _Abruptly, Duncan was struck by inspiration. It was a brilliant solution, but… _Adam is going to be very annoyed with me when he's better. Very, very annoyed._

"Actually, it won't be breaking a confidence to tell you this," Duncan said, choosing his words carefully. "I have good reason to believe that He-Man's parents are deceased." _That is, if you think of his father and mother as the people who created the power sword, the ones who determined his destiny. Why do I have a feeling this argument won't hold water with Randor when he finds out the truth one day?_

The king had paled, his eyes were downcast. "Oh, I see. That is regrettable."

"Ummm, Randor, would you mind watching where we're going," Duncan interjected, trying to lighten the mood. _And change the subject._

The king huffed. "We are currently on autopilot, you—"

There followed a pleasant little skirmish of wits and insults, the kind that Adam and Teela aspired to but were as yet not skilled enough to achieve. It was an entertaining way to pass the time, for they were still many long hours from their goal.

* * *

After days of waiting, one of the calls Teela had been so eagerly anticipating finally came in. While it was not good news of the monumentous _we found the cure and we're coming home _variety, it was good news nevertheless. Roboto and Sy-Klone were at last returning from their mission in the Sands of Time. The Palace would be stronger by two more Masters. Teela could almost feel some of the weight on her shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

Not that there hadn't been moments when she'd doubted, sometimes to an embarrassing degree, the wisdom of making Roboto a Master of Universe. And, is truth were known, Sy-Klone's aphorisms made her teeth ache on a regular basis. But they were Masters, they were home at last, and they were two more people to stand between Adam and whatever else the world chose to throw at him. _Thank the Elders. _

For a variety of reasons, Teela was in the hangar to greet them when their wind raider came in for landing. First and foremost was the pressing need to fill both Masters in on the events of the past week. Though they had been notified of the attack upon the palace while still in the field, King Randor had been reluctant to send detailed news of his son's condition via the air waves for fear that some untrustworthy person – _Skeletor, in a word _– would find the information of unsavory interest. As she'd expected, both warriors were distressed to learn the true severity of the prince's injuries. What she had most certainly not expected was Roboto's reaction.

"The likelihood that the expedition will return with a cure is infinitesimal. The probability that it will return with such a cure in time to preserve Prince Adam's life is so minute as to be almost incalculable by a biological being," he intoned in the manner of one discussing the chance of a blizzard in mid-summer. "Barring additional information to the contrary, I would have to say that his chances are not good."

Teela gaped, she… she seethed. _How can he? How _can_ he say such things? How CAN he be so cold!?_

"I fear your words are true, my friend," Sy-Klone agreed. "Still, a single blossom may bloom even in the darkest heart of winter. We must not give up hope."

"Hope is a biological emotion; however, I have found that – "

Teela blinked. _Was that another Anwat Garian adage? _She grimaced and counted silently to ten while they kept talking over her head. She counted to twenty, then to thirty. When she reached sixty-four, she thought she might be able to trust herself not scream at them or, horrifyingly worse, burst into tears. "Well," she said, breaking unrepentantly into their conversation, "here are your duty assignments." She smacked two nearly identical datapads into each of their hands.

Both Masters immediately became absorbed in examining their new orders. When they were finished she snapped out, "Any questions?"

"None, captain," Roboto answered without delay.

Sy-Klone was silent for a moment, studying her face. "I believe I have one query, captain?"

"Well?" she asked, not bothering to hide her impatience.

The Anwat Garian's eyes grew wider. Raising a single eyebrow, he continued. "Are we permitted to visit Prince Adam or have visitation privileges been restricted in some way?"

Teela ground her teeth for a moment, then said, "The Masters and certain select friends are allowed to see him, but – " She stopped abruptly, stepping closer to both of them, stepping into their space, stepping into authority. "No one, and I mean NO ONE, is allowed to to talk doom and gloom around Adam!" Both Masters went very still, though Roboto did tilt his head as if mimicking a human's attempt hear better. "I've already chewed out one junior medic and I'm more than ready to take you on as well. Do we understand each other?"

Sy-Klone's brows knit. "Captain Teela, I – "

"Do we or do we not understand each other?"

"Yes," they replied in unison.

Teela's chin came up with an audible snap as her neck popped. Swallowing to hide her mortification, she said only, "Good," before turning smartly and striding away. She could hear them having a low-voiced conversation behind her as she rounded the first corner.

* * *

When the expedition finally found the Hammer, which looked distinctly as if it might once have been a hive of the Andrenids, they decided to make camp at its foot for the night. It was in this place that their individual roles became clearly delineated. Duncan performed a routine maintenance check on the vehicles while Randor and Mekanek set up their camp. Ram-Man cooked all of the expedition's food. He had an amazing talent for making delicious and filling meals out of travel rations. This was no surprise to his fellow old campaigners, but Orko was shocked speechless. _A happy occurrence for all concerned._ As for the little Trollan, once he recovered from his delight over the excellent victuals, he did his best to entertain them and generally got in everyone's way. No one complained, though. _It's just a little touch of home, I guess._ _Something, I fear, that we're all going to need desperately before this quest is over._

Stratos was exempt from camp duties due to his responsibility to read, translate and interpret Arora's journals. None of the others, except Duncan, could read the Avion tongue. Unfortunately, Duncan could not help Stratos with his task because he could not read Arora's handwriting. Apparently, when the traveler's journals were copied for the Great Library of Avion, they were reproduced faithfully in every detail, right down to her illegible penmanship. Stratos claimed to have no trouble deciphering it, but then he's been reading the narrative of Arora's life on and off for years. Luckily, the Avion didn't seem to mind the chore. Often, he would pause briefly in his studies to share amusing or otherwise interesting passages with them.

"I think he's half in love with her," Duncan informed Randor as they sat beside each other in the Pelius the next morning. "The way he speaks of her, well, it's as if she's still alive."

"I am certain it is nothing significant, Man-At-Arms," the king said, rejecting his reasoning. "No doubt it is merely the interest of one enthusiastic scholar for the life of another dedicated intellectual and adventurer."

"Perhaps. Perhaps you are right," Duncan hedged, reflexively stroking his mustache. "Still, I would hate to see him hurt by this. Just... watch him carefully."

Randor carefully examined his advisor's countenance. "You really are quite concerned about this," he said in a tone of baffled enlightenment.

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked. "Even if you are correct, aside from the emotional toll it will take on Stratos, what harm could come of this infatuation?"

Duncan sighed. "I don't know, Sire. It just makes me uneasy. That's all."

"All right, Man-At-Arms," the king conceded. "I trust your judgment. Monitor the situation, and let me know if you think it requires some form of intercession on my part. I will keep my own eyes open for any sign of trouble. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes," Duncan said, feeling more than a touch foolish. "It does."

* * *

Skeletor stood on a rocky crag, a shimmering circle of green light hanging in the air before him. Now, at the moment of its creation, the circle was empty. But it would not remain so for soon it would show him exactly what he desired to know. Focusing his thoughts, Skeletor called out to his Junarit constructs, his death's head butterflies. He called to them, and they answered eagerly. Like him, they hungered for blood, for chaos, for power. An image of the Junarit, they and the wind walkers they'd sunk their barbed feet into, appeared within his mind. He drew that image out of himself and cast it into the sparking circle of verdant light. Gazing both outwardly and inwardly upon this projection, he began concentrating power for the spell that would tell him where the ships were at that moment and where they were bound.

Skeletor clenched his clawed hands as the inane conversation behind him grew louder.

"Isn't this near the place where Trap Jaw ran into those critters in that underground village?" Beastman asked nervously.

Whiplash sighed. "The creatures are called Kulatocks, the village is known as Stillia, and it is approximately seven kilometers in that direction."

"Oh," Beastman said, sounding slightly less confused but considerably more nervous. "I hope we don't run into any of them. How do you know all that stuff, anyway?"

Whiplash sighed again, gustily. "Because I pay attention. You are too busy cleaning the mats out of your fur to learn anything."

Beastman growled and then, for several minutes, Skeletor was gifted with silence. It was not to last, however.

"I'm cold," Whiplash complained from several meters behind him. Eyes smoldering, overlord ground his teeth and ignored the oaf as best as he could, fighting to maintain his concentration on the spell.

"I'm not cold," Beastman countered.

"It's never cold at Snake Mountain," the Caligar mused. "That's what I like so much about that place. It's always toasty."

"So?" the furry one asked.

"So? So what? What do you mean, 'So?' I'm cold," Whiplash said loudly. "I'm cold means I'm cold!"

Skeletor's concentration shattered with a crash so horrendous he was surprised it wasn't audible. He whirled around, cape billowing, eyes flashing crimson fire. "Silence!" he commanded, his voice echoing back off peaks near and far, causing the snow underfoot to shudder ominously. His minions, suitably cowed, backed rapidly away from his ire.

Though they were both quite tall, he noticed that they were standing hip-deep in snow unlike their lord and master who, quite literally, floated above it all. The Caligar, in particular was shivering and beginning to turn an alarming shade of dark green around the edges. _But that's his problem._ "I… will… have… silence!" Skeletor insisted, carefully enunciating each word. Then, giving each of them one more fierce frown, he turned back to his scrying. _Why am I cursed to be served by such bumbling fools?_

"Good going, lizard brain. You got us in trouble."

"Well, I'm cold!" he insisted sotto voce. "What do you want me to do? Freeze?"

"You'd stop complaining," Beastman agreed quickly. Then, after a moment of consideration, he said, "I'm not cold."

Skeletor growled under his breath, but he did not intervene in their conversation. He concentrated on the image before him, on the wind walkers and their pathetic occupants. He concentrated on divining their course. It wasn't easy and his blood boiled in his veins.

"Of course you're not cold," Whiplash said disdainfully.

"What do you mean, 'of course'?"

"_You_ are covered in _fur_, obviously. I swear," the Caligar added in lofty tones, "one might think you have the brain of a flea, the way you behave."

"Who you calling a flea brain?"

"It is a constant source of amazement to me that you ever learned to walk upright," Whiplash said, speaking very slowly. "I did not call you 'flea brain!' I said that – "

"You're gonna be walking all the way back to Snake Mountain if you don't quit whining and calling me – "

"But I'm cold! I can't help it if – "

"I said," Skeletor turned slowly around, his joints crackling like dry branches in the cold, "be SILENT!" With a negligent wave of energy, he blasted his mumbling minions. They flew a dozen meters through the air and landed in a snow bank, sinking out of sight. _Let them suffocate, _he thought as watched the snow above them shift and shake with their struggles to reach the surface. _I should have brought Evil-Lyn with me. Even if she is plotting to overthrow me, at least she doesn't act like an idiot every moment of her life. I should find a way to steal some of those Masters away from Randor… the smart ones like Man-At-Arms. Yes, that's definitely something to consider._

Resigned to his company for the moment, he turned back to his scrying. Within the circle he'd cast was projected the image of the King of Eternia's party. He watched, eyes smoldering, as the two wind walkers, with their unknown passengers clamped to their sides, departed from Avion and headed out on a course that would take them deep into the heart of the Ice Mountains. He sped time up until he reached the present and observed with mild amusement their rustic activities as they made camp beneath an abandoned hive.

_Or is it abandoned? _he wondered in growing amusement. _Perhaps it's time for the king of Eternia's party to encounter an obstacle or two. I wouldn't want Randor to become complacent._ _But that means I need…_

"Beastman! Get over here!" Skeletor bellowed, turning swiftly and pointing his havoc staff at the snowdrift where the furry cretin had gone down. The minion popped out of the snow like a demented daisy, and, grimacing, the overlord retrieved his other hapless lackey as well. When they were both standing beside him, snow still sticking to the shivering Caligar and dripping from Beastman's lice-infested ruff, Skeletor turned back to the image before. "Now, my dear Beastman, I want you to see what you can awaken in that abandoned hive."

The minion scratched his furry head. "Uh, but Skeletor, I need to be near the – "

The dark lord snaked around, eyes aflame. "Think of this," he hissed through his gritted teeth, "as a window. Find a creature suitable for killing heroic warriors and send after Randor and his men." His grip on his staff tightened threateningly. "I assure you, the creature will hear you call."

Beastman and Whiplash exchange a rapid, dubious glance, severely trying Skeletor's razor thin patience, before the shaggy one stepped forward to obey his master. _The bungling oaf better not muck this up. _

* * *

Still disgusted beyond her power to express it, Teela marched to the infirmary, determined to speak with Healer Dorgan and the Queen Marlena regarding the negative attitudes of certain palace residents. _If I come across just one more set of courtiers sniggering in an alcove about Adam, I'm going to commit a felony. Won't _that_ just thrill Father. _Distracted by her own inner turmoil, Teela stumbled on a loose paving stone within sight of the infirmary. Her reflexes were certainly sufficiently good to prevent her from actually falling, but what about other people? _Invalids come this way, for the Elders sake! People on crutches come this way! Why hasn't this been fixed? _Smirking, she thought,_ I'll just add it to the list of projects for Roboto to tackle…when he's done with the other twenty._

Feeling slightly more mollified, Teela swung into the infirmary, smiling pleasantly and nodding at the healers, medics and patients she passed. She unbent so far as to wave at Mistress Esaudre, a courtier and aspiring healer who volunteered most of her spare time helping out and taking lessons on the sly. _Well, by the time she's ready to take her exams and apply for an official apprenticeship, Adam will be better and he can lean on her family for approval._ _He's good at talking people into things that go against their better judgment. _By the time she reached Adam's door, her smile had widened to something approaching a genuine a grin.

"Good eve – " Teela's mouth shut so quickly that she bit the inside of her own lower lip. "Oww!" The captain shook her head, trying to clear her vision of the unfathomable image before her, but it remained stubbornly in place. Hand pressed to her mouth, she walked cautiously toward her friend's bed. None of the adults that she might have expected were in the room. In fact, she and the prince were the only two _people _present. Cringer was also conspicuously absent, but Adam didn't lack for feline companionship. _Oh, no._

Adam – _that rat – _was sound asleep as far as Teela could see. But then, it wasn't easy to see much of him when most of the bed, the blankets and the prince were covered in a liberal coating of Qadian kittens. _What in all Eternia is going on here? _As she watched, immobilized by shock, one of the kittens, an orange one with a cream colored belly, black patches all over its back and a white ring around it's muzzle, shifted. The miniature Qadian stretched, yawned, and then stepped over several of its brethren and sat down on a small bare patch of pillow by the slumbering prince's left shoulder.

The kitten proceeded to lick Adam's neck, his cheek and his hair. It seemed particularly displeased with the general cleanliness of his hair because it changed its position, placed its front paws on his shoulder, presumably for better balance, and began a concerted attack upon his bangs.

"Adam?" Teela called quietly. "Adam, are you awake?" He didn't so much as blink. _How did they sneak in? Why are they here? They've obviously been here for ages! Where are the medics? Where Cringer! _It was this last question that most concerned her. The prince needed his anchor. So where was tiger? Teela turned toward the door, determined to go and find the errant pet, but, before she could go any father, the door opened and Cringer padded in.

He yawned as he strode in, claiming the space around him as only a tiger could. When he saw her, he began to purr loudly, and Teela was touched when the enormous green and gold striped cat immediately walked over and began to rub her legs, winding around and around them until he almost knocked her over. Laughing, she squatted and began to scratch his ears and chin. He endured her attentions happily for a minute or two, then he pulled resignedly away and padded tiredly over to the bed. Teela couldn't see any possible room for him. Abruptly, she lost the ability to breath. _Ummm… Maybe I should find – _

Cringer's ears suddenly flattened themselves again his head. He hissed. Twice. Kittenish ears perked up slowly, still muzzy with sleep. There was otherwise very little reaction. The tiger's jaw dropped open and gut-rending roar emerged as he raised his head toward the ceiling. Suddenly, there was flurry of movement, a furry storm as kittens flew in every conceivable direction. Teela ducked as two ran past her to land on the table that Queen Marlena had previously used as a desk.

Coughing and waving fur away from her face, Teela almost didn't hear the soft laughter coming from the bed. Then, a weak voice, rich with mirth said, "You tell 'em, Cringe!" Teela walked quickly to her friend's side.

"Adam!" she barked.

"What?" he asked, turning his head toward her, clearly surprised to find a non-feline present. "Oh, hi, Teela."

She snorted. "Hi." Sighing, she began to clear away some of the fur that had settled on his face and shoulders. There was a considerable amount of it, all over the bed in an earthy rainbow of colors. "Can you breathe okay?" she asked as she cleared a particularly large tuft from his neck. His blue eyes sparkled up at her, the pain in them only just discernable.

"Yeah." The hollow, I'm about to pass out, quality was creeping back into his voice, and Teela hurriedly finished rearranging his pillows and blankets so he'd be comfortable. "Ya know," he said in a barely audible whisper, "you're turning into quite the little nursemaid."

"Yes, well, enjoy it while it lasts, your highness, because when you're better I'm going to kick your – " Teela stopped speaking for a moment as his eyes closed. "Oh, Adam." Ignoring the kittens that scampered in irritated waves around the room, Teela leaned forward to clear yet more fur from his shoulders and found her mouth hovering shockingly over his. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She swallowed. _What am I doing?_

"Captain?" A wry voice spoke behind her and Teela straightened away from the bed so rapidly that she found herself falling through the air as a desperately insulted Qadian toddler darted away from her booted feet. She landed in the queen's armchair with an audible thump and a cloud of fur rising into the air around her.

The queen – _of all the people to come now – _stood framed in the doorway, her image occluded slightly by the wall of fur that hung between them. "Your highness," Teela said quickly, though she feared it emerged more as a squeak than as intelligible speech. "I – we – I – WHAT ARE THE KITTENS DOING HERE?!" she finally demanded, fighting down panic over what the queen might or might not have seen.

Marlena eyed her curiously for a moment, then, sounding quite calm and cheerful, she explained. "These," she said, gesturing to the puddle of kittens that had quickly formed around her feet, "are the grandchildren of King Carnivus' littermate, that would be his sibling to you and me. Mewlera, his littermate, sent them here at his request." Stepping carefully over the now purring toddlers, she continued her explanation. "Apparently, it is the custom in Qadia for those who are ill or injured to be surrounded by the very young, though not by those so infantile that they are still suckling."

Teela was suddenly struck by the horrifying vision of trying to find an Eternian wet-nurse for all these kittens and was unbelievably relieved to know that they didn't actually need one. _What a nightmare that interview would be, _she thought with tinge of could just hear the questions that would be asked. _"Now tell me, how many children can you suckle at once?" _She shook her head in a fruitless effort to clear it of the images this conjured up. Marlena, heedless of her listener's distraction, had continued speaking.

"Qadian healers consider the presence of youthful spirits to be beneficial for their patients." When she reached the bed, the queen sat down on its edge, not bothering to brush away any of the fur that clung there. "Though Carnivus didn't say so, I strongly suspect that the custom also serves the dual purpose of familiarizing Qadians from a very tender age with the realities of life, illness and death."

_Don't mention death! He's not going to die… He's not._

"It seems a sensible enough tradition, so when Carnivus offered a huddle of younglings, that's what they call a mixed group from various litters, you see, a huddle. Anyway, when he offered his littermate's grandchildren for the duration, I accepted."

Teela blinked at her, uncertain how to respond.

Marlena patted the bed and Cringer hopped up beside her, eyeing the quivering huddle of kittens on the floor with clear disfavor. He settled ostentatiously beside his master's dam and began to clean his haunches.

The queen exchanged a dry look with the captain and then sucked on her lower lip in a way that made Teela strongly suspect that the older woman was suppressing laughter. _But is she laughing at me, at the kittens, or at Cringer? Somehow, I don't think I want to know the answer to that question._ The younger woman surreptitiously cleared her throat. "But, your highness, all this fur? It can't be good for Adam."

Marlena tilted her head, contemplating the problem. "Yes." She sighed. "I must admit, this problem didn't occur to me. I wonder how they deal with all that excess fur in Qadia?" She tapped her lips lightly with her right index finger and then said, "I suppose I'll just have to make certain that someone is coming in here to clean at least once an hour."

"And, umm, Cringer?" Teela asked, earning an inquiring look from the tiger.

"Yes, Cringer. Hmmm. Mrep?"

Teela blinked. _I'm hearing things. _"Excuse me? Did you say something, your highness?"

Marlena shook her head and waved at hand at the captain to indicate that her attention was fixed on something else. Leaning forward until she was quite clearing directing her comments to the huddle, she again said, "Mrep?"

Teela stifled a gasp as the patchwork kitten with the white belly and muzzle leapt from the midst of the huddle and landed lightly on the queen's lap as Marlena hastily sat back in order to accommodate the child. The Qadian stared attentively up at the queen and then let out small mewling sound that was too high pitched for Teela to completely make out.

"That's an interrogative," Marlena explained, as Teela came closer. "Roughly equivalent to 'huh?' I should think." The queen cleared her throat, stroked the child's back and said, "Now, Mrep, you must tell the others that while Cringer is an animal, he is a very intelligent one. He should be treated with respect, and his instructions regarding Adam should always be obeyed."

The Qadian's ears did a little dance as it closely watched the face of the woman who held it. The whiskers twitched at the last admonition, and the kitten made a long series of sounds that sent chills up Teela's spine. Marlena, to the captain's shock, listened as if she understood what was being said.

"They do indeed have a very strong bond," she replied, apparently agreeing with something. "A very special bond, and you must listen to Cringer. Just because his species is not generally considered sentient does not mean that – "

Marlena broke off as the look on the child's face made it clear that it gotten lost somewhere around the word 'sentient.' After a few moments of whisker-twitching contemplation, the Qadian leaned up, rubbed the queen's chin and then jumped off her lap to land beside Cringer, who watched it warily. It went belly up, displaying all that creamy fur before the tiger's nose.

Cringer huffed loudly and gave the queen a long-suffering look. Marlena smiled sympathetically and the tiger huffed again, more quietly this time as it looked down at the wriggling Qadian. Then, as if to say, "Fine, I'll watch the children," he pinned the kitten down with one enormous paw and began to clean its ears.

"Well," said Marlena, sounding distinctly satisfied with herself, "that's settled."

Teela could feel her brows knitting. "It is?"

"Why, yes," the queen replied, seeming startled by Teela's confusion. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I forgot, you don't speak the language." Marlena began to tap her lips again, then said, "Mrep's the titular leader of this huddle, so the other younglings will obey him. Carnivus and I established earlier that Cringer and the younglings can understand each other on a basic level, enough to get by at least."

The queen stood. "Well, I really must get back to work. I'll have a cot brought in later and spend the night in here, so you can get some real rest tonight." She favored Teela with a motherly smile. "Uninterrupted rest, hopefully. Now, I must go speak with the cleaning staff."

Saying a quick farewell to the mewling huddle, Marlena headed for the door. _I can't stand it, _Teela thought in mounting frustration. _I've just got to know. I've got to ask. _"Wait, your highness," she called as she dashed after the departing monarch. She caught the queen in the hallway just outside the room.

"Yes."

"How did you learn Qadian?"

"Oh," Marlena said, realization dawning. She looked around, her glance taking in the curious healers and medics who passed by them. "Well, I – this isn't really the best time or place for that story." She sighed. "The long and short of it is that I once spent eighty-three days locked in a cell with two Qadians. I had to either learn the language or talk to myself. That was years and years ago, but it seems I haven't lost the knack of it."

Teela gaped. _A cell? Eighty-three days? Does Adam know? If he does, I'm gonna kill him. Whose cell? Who locked her up?_


End file.
